The Good Samaritan
by BVR2109
Summary: AU: In December, 2004 Sarah Walker was confronted with a curly-haired man who desperately needed her help. Little did she know that her life would forever change that day.
1. The Happening

**A/N: **Yeah, I know. Yet another story that I started. But this is different, I swear! I'm actually building a buffer and having a beta for this one. She'll probably hound me up to make sure I write this stuff in a timely manner. Don't worry about IP, it WILL get finished, if it's the last thing I do. It's just kind of hard to find the motivation to start on it at the moment and all these new ideas are popping into my head. 

I want to thank my beta **ShinyJayne19** for being generally awesome and helping me a whole lot with almost every story that I've got going on at the moment. I don't have a lot of experience with beta's, but I can tell she's awesome at it anyway. **  
><strong>

**DISCLAIMER: **If things do not make sense with regards to where I placed them in D.C., that's because I've never actually been there and most of my research is done through the wonderful help of Google Maps along with Wolfram Alpha. Don't own Chuck.

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><p><strong>The Good Samaritan, Chapter 1<br>**

**The Happening**

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><p><strong>Sarah's apartment, Washington D.C.<br>Tuesday, December 14****th****, 2004  
>15:42<strong>

Another boring day doing nothing but twiddling thumbs. It seemed to be a common occurrence for Sarah as of late. She had returned from a satisfying mission in the Czech Republic. Nothing fancy, just a simple snatch and grab. She didn't even have to seduce anyone, so that was always a plus. She inwardly shuddered as she remembered how degrading her last seduction mission was. Oh, the creep didn't get far at all. A nifty tranquilizer dart saw to that, as it had done every time so far, but the fact remained that he had kissed her. Sarah's love for the greater good went far. She would've probably gone farther than making out with some random creep if it truly was the last option available. But that didn't mean it was any less disgusting.

Sarah crossed the boulevard from her apartment. She knew she could occupy her boredom by lounging on the couch, but who watched TV at almost four in the afternoon? That was crazy. And if she was honest with herself, she could do without all the ridiculous Christmas adverts that she was already seeing advertised. Christmas at her home meant a bottle of wine and a frozen dinner. When she was still with her dad it usually meant a con job. The Salvation Army was the easy target that naturally became an annual occurrence.

She shook her head and smiled at her father's crazy antics. It wasn't so much a smile as it was a grimace. She didn't know how she could've ever gone along with what he did. Still, it did lead to a promising career with the CIA, so all in all maybe it wasn't too bad. She was serving the greater good now and that was all that mattered to her. Everything else went on the backburner, including her social life. And boy was that biting her in the ass right now.

She tightened her coat. It was damn near freezing. She checked a thermometer: 30.2° F. That was _just_ great. She crossed the street, walking along with the masses, looking somewhere to go. She had her duffel bag with sports gear slung over her shoulder, but she didn't know if she would actually work out. She had been doing it nonstop since her return home. It seemed to be the only thing that would keep her mind off the dull life that was hers between missions. She figured she could spend some time at the shooting range, trying to improve her already near perfect score by the tiniest of margins. If anything, she was a perfectionist. And she had always been taught that the details mattered. She had to be able to accurately pinpoint exactly how much money her mark was holding when she did her girl-scout con, she had to make sure that the latex was applied correctly and the wig was on just right when she did the CIA's cons.

Sarah scanned the crowd. Years of being an agent had made it an autonomous action on her part. Each face was scanned for details and remembered. Oh, the bliss of having an eidetic memory. Most were businessmen or women, rushing to get back to work after a late lunch.

_Lucky bastards, at least they get to go somewhere_.

One face within the momentous crowd caught her attention a split second longer than it usually did. It was a nice face, soft brown eyes, smile on his lips and he was tall. At least a couple of inches taller than Sarah and she wasn't short by any stretch of the imagination. He had cute curls on his head that seemed to bounce wildly as he trotted along with the masses busy with their daily grind. He was wearing a messenger bag with the emblem of a stickman in a running motion, the words Nerd Herd etched below, as well as a silly pocket protector, something that she hadn't seen in ages. She shook her head and tried to erase the pleasant face from her memory as best as she could. Of course, that wasn't going to work very well. Oh, the bliss of having an eidetic memory.

Her feet went on auto pilot and she found herself walking the old route to her local gym. _Guess that answers that question then_.

She walked inside and was enveloped by the pleasant warmth that the radiators in the gym provided. She was greeted by Paul. She had always liked Paul. He had sandy blonde hair that was trimmed neatly and vibrant green eyes. He was fit, was good looking and amazingly friendly. He was a true catch. "Hey Paul," she called out.

The best part was that he was gay. She wasn't lying when she said he was a catch. She just wasn't interested in him and neither was he in her, but from the way that he had always acted towards her she could easily see him making his boyfriend very happy. He'd always been courteous to her and had even helped her chase away some of the other men around the gym who thought that they could bag the hot blonde on the treadmill.

"Sarah, great to see you… again," he said, adding a wink.

"What can I say?" she said adding a shrug for emphasis. "Creature of habit."

"I'll say. So what will it be today?"

"Oh, just the usual. Calisthenics to start followed by some time on the treadmill. Got to keep fit somehow."

"You got to keep fit? Girl, if you'd get any more fit you'd look like me."

"We can't have that, now can we?" she said, chuckling.

"Well, I'll leave you to it. Let me know if there's any trouble. I've seen a few potentials today."

That was their thing. Paul was a master in finding men who were so in love with themselves that they would inadvertently end up trying something with her. But instead of not being in the mood, she was hoping it would happen today. She couldn't wait to see what Paul would pull out of the bag this time. But whatever he had thought up, she was sure to be amused.

"Thanks for the warning, I'll be sure to keep an eye out for them. Are we still using the same sign as before?"

"Yup, two whistles and I'll come save you from the big bad men. Maybe you should show them your routine on the heavy bag. That ought to scare them off."

"But where would that leave you? You need your fun as well," she said, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

"Oh, what would I do without you, Sarah?"

"Hit on men who are gay instead of straight?"

"Touché. Very well, miss Walker. The floor…" he said, with a flourish of his arm, "is yours."

Grinning she walked to the changing room. The yoga pants and sports bra still fit her perfectly. The only problem was that it… well, it was very exposing. She had contemplated working out in a burqa but that would have seriously limited her movement capabilities. She sighed. The eternal catch-22. Either don't work out or have a serious risk of getting hit on. She once again thanked the Gods that Paul was gay.

She walked out and saw a couple of the machines already being utilized. She walked to mirrors at the end of the room and picked up a mat. She rolled it out and positioned herself on it, meanwhile focusing her attention on the rhythm of the music that was blaring from the speakers. It was some top 40 song that she'd never heard before. Being in other parts of the world didn't leave a lot of time to expand her musical knowledge, but she could easily discern a beat. She focused on it as she put her hands behind her hands and started her sit ups. _Inhale, sit up, slowly exhale and fall back down. Rinse and repeat._

She closed her eyes and the music served as the catalyst that spurred her on. Her set was executed with speed, precision and crispness. She fell back on the mat and released the grip on her neck. She opened her eyes and scanned the room. Two sets of eyes immediately flicked back. _Oh, Paul you _are_ good. _She rolled up the mat and moved to the treadmill, giving her hips slightly more of a sway than was strictly necessary. She grinned as she could literally feel the stares burning through her. A loud whistle called her attention to Paul. He stood with crossed arms, tapping his feet while his head was slightly cocked to the left. She walked over.

"Is there a problem, Paul?"

"I thought you didn't want people hitting on you?"

"I don't," she said with an impish grin.

"Really? Because that hip movement just now almost made me change my preference."

"Well, let's just say that I'm in the mood to see what sort of crazy scheme you've concocted in that insane mind of yours today."

"I reckon you will be pleased," he said while returning her impish grin.

"And you're sure that it won't come back to haunt you?"

"Nope, the 'targets' aren't regulars and don't even have a subscription. Besides, have you seen Martha?"

Martha was the manager of the gym. She had light brown hair cut in a short bob style. Her physique while slightly less than Sarah's was still impressive. "Yeah, I've seen her. What about her?"

"If she found out why I'm doing this, she'd probably give me a raise. She had the same problem as you do."

Sarah shrugged. "Alright, well as long as it doesn't get you in trouble…" She strutted back to the treadmill, her hips swaying a lot more regular than two minutes ago. She started jogging at a comfortable pace as she kept her entire focus dedicated to her breathing. After half an hour, she felt her breath becoming shallower and coming at a more rapid pace. She felt the start of perspiration in her hair and soon her skin was coated in a film of light sweat. Still, she kept up with her regime. According to the pedometer she had only done eight miles. Two more before her routine was closed to her satisfaction.

She kept pushing on and almost exactly seven minutes and thirty seconds later, her workout was done for the day. It was time to find some food and go back to her apartment to watch some crappy television. Tuesday's were never good on TV. Most of the interesting stuff aired on Monday anyway. She stepped off the treadmill and turned when she almost ran in a slab of beef. _Fantastic._

"Hey there, I saw you working out and I couldn't help but notice that you got a little sweaty over there. How's about we go take a shower and help you get clean, huh?" He trailed a finger over her arm. She wanted to knock him out, but as she peered past the guy who must've had one of the worst pick up lines in the history of mankind, she noticed that Paul was already sauntering over. _This'll be good._

Paul reached over and trailed his finger in the same pattern that the man had just done to Sarah. He spun around and looked him in the eye. "Dude, what the hell are you doing?"

"Well," Paul began, batting his eyelids. "I couldn't help but notice your strong biceps and how…" he inhaled deeply, "great you smell. What do you say that we go back to the shower and get you nice and clean, huh?"

The look on the man's face was priceless. "Dude, get the hell away from me, freak! What the fuck!" He turned and ran for the locker rooms. Sarah's façade fell and she burst out laughing. Paul quickly joined her.

"That was brilliant, Paul. Thank you very much."

"Any time, Sarah. You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

Sarah nodded. It was true; Paul was one of the few people she could talk to. He had picked up on her self-reservation and had learned not to ask uncomfortable questions. But when she just needed someone to talk to, she could always come to him. He didn't ask about her job, didn't ask about her, he simply listened and offered his own view on things. He was one of the few people she was happy to call her friend. And he was the only friend who wasn't a spy. She could talk with him about mundane things and not feel like she didn't belong. Carina was great and all, but Sarah would love to talk about something other than screwing a mark, a mission or going out to a club. Sometimes she just wanted the freedom to talk about the weather and not be looked upon like a freak. And Paul offered exactly that. It was refreshing.

"I'm going to go get changed," she said. Paul nodded and she walked towards the dressing rooms. She took a quick shower managing to get the sweat off of her without the need for an extra companion in the showers. She grimaced. What was it with people and their innate desire to have sex all the time? She'd had sex, of course she did. But she didn't get the appeal that people saw in it. Maybe she had different standards, but it would've been nice if men at least tried to make an effort in giving her a good time instead of trying to talk her between the sheets. Maybe they'd get a lot farther than they had.

She once again tightened her trench coat and pulled the Smith and Wesson out of the pocket before placing it in the small of her back, where it belonged. She slung the duffel bag back over her shoulder and left the gym after a polite wave to Paul.

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><p><strong>Outside of 24 Hour Fitness, Washington D.C.<br>Tuesday, December 14****th****, 2004  
>17:28<strong>

Sarah's stomach growled. Loudly. She always felt somewhat famished after an intense workout but apparently the hunger had intensified. She'd probably end up getting a pizza again: vegetarian, no olives. Just the way she liked it. She moved along the crowds as the day of work had ended and everyone was flocking back to their respective homes.

She trudged on; she'd go back to her house, turn on the heater and relax in her chair before deciding what she would do. The yellow pages were within reach and as such, a plethora of worldly delicacies lay at her fingertips.

A burst of random commotion disturbed her from her musings as to what she would have for dinner. She heard shocked gasps and people started moving away. Sarah tried to peer over the sea of people to see what was going on, but she couldn't get a clear view. That was until a young man burst through the crowd, clinging to people asking for them to help him. His hair was disheveled and his eyes were frantic, but she remembered him all the same. How could she not? It was the same man that she had seen earlier that day. The one who made her almost do a double take.

"Please, please help me," he croaked. But all Sarah saw were the disgusted looks that people gave him. Another bout of commotion burst loose when two burly men and a lanky one ran through the crowd, one of them clutching the Nerd Herd bag that she had seen the man carry earlier. The curly haired man collapsed to the pavement as the group of three caught up to him.

"Don't worry, people. We'll help him," the lanky man with surprisingly long hair shouted. People nodded and moved along, obviously too absorbed with their lives to spare a glance at the young man. But Sarah's keenly trained eye noticed two things. One, the man was bleeding. His hand was covering his chest where the wound bloomed crimson. Blood was seeping through his fingers and it seemed like it was deep, definitely not superficial by any means. Second, the lanky man who had said that he'd care of it didn't tend to the wounded man that was in desperate need for help, but rather on the crowd around him to see if anyone would come to his aid. Sarah knew that the man with the friendly eyes in front of her would die if she didn't intervene.

She stepped forward. "Don't worry about it," she said sweetly. "I'll help him. I'm actually a nurse and my house is only a block away from here. I've got supplies there to help this man with whatever he needs."

The two burly men looked at each other before both directing their gaze to their leader. He shrugged. "Thank you for the offer, but this guy is actually a relative. I think it's best if we help him out, don't you think?"

"Actually, I think that's a horrible idea," Sarah said, preparing herself for the possibility of having to engage them in a fight. Three on one wasn't the best odds that Sarah had ever faced, but the burly men looked like street brawlers and didn't have the luxury of being a black belt in Tae-Kwan Do, Jujitsu and Krav Maga. The lanky man looked more like the commander of their little group rather than a real fighter. If need be she could always whip out her trusty S&W and get things done faster. But she also accounted for the possibility of a knife fight. Gaping wounds didn't appear out of nowhere after all.

"Listen missy," one of the burly men said as he approached her in a threatening fashion. "I think it would be best if you just move on and act as if you didn't see any of this, okay?"

Sarah dropped her hands and nodded. "Okay… fine. Just do one thing for me, okay?" The man nodded. "Please act as if you aren't about to get your ass kicked by me."

The man had ample time to react in a confused manner before her kick connected to the side of his knee, bending it at an awkward angle. The man twisted his knee and grabbed for it, trying to get the pain to go away, but exposing the right side of his head. Sarah's right leg flew up and preformed a swift snap kick to his temple, knocking the burly man out.

"You bitch!" the other man screamed, before grabbing a knife caked in blood and lunging at her. Sarah sidestepped the attack before grabbing the man's wrist and twisting it. A violent crack caused the man to drop the knife, the weapon clattering to the pavement. The man screamed in agony as Sarah directed a knee into his groin. He fell to his knees but Sarah wasn't done yet. She had sworn to protect the United States and its inhabitants and she would be damned if she would give up on that now. She kneeled before him and yanked his face up to meet her blazing blue eyes.

"You made a very serious mistake," she said, before slamming her elbow in his nose. Blood squirted out and the man fell backwards, his head connecting with the pavement at a rate that would give him a serious headache, if the broken nose alone wasn't enough. She stood up and spun around trying to find the lanky man. He was gone, as was the messenger bag. She eyed the scene around her and noticed that most of the people were frozen, staring in either awe or fear. Sarah didn't particularly care at that point in time. "Is someone going to call 9-1-1?" she shouted. Instantly, three onlookers grabbed their cell phones and dialed. Sarah nodded and picked up the knife before crouching down at the stabbed man's chest area. She looked for the pocket protector she had seen him wearing earlier but couldn't find it.

"Hey, how are you feeling? Are you awake?" she asked the man with the curly hairs. She heard a soft moan escape his lips. "Try and stay awake. All you need to do is stay awake and we can help you." She shrugged off her trench coat and sliced a strip from its fabric. She put it in the wound that was still bleeding profusely.

She heard the man hiss and his eyes fluttered open looking directly in Sarah's. "Am I in heaven?" he asked.

"No, you're not. And if it's up to me, you're not going there for a long time."

"Huh," she heard him whisper. "Could've sworn I'm seeing an angel…"

She laughed at the compliment, even though the man wasn't very lucid at that point in time. Still, she had to keep him talking. "Do you know what happened?"

"I… I don't know… I think I got… Did I get stabbed?"

"Yes… yes you have."

She heard the man sigh. "Ellie is going to kill me. She'd just pressed this shirt."

"Who is Ellie?"

"Ellie is my… my sister… back in Los Angeles."

"Tell me about her," she commanded as she increased the pressure against the wound. His eyes flared open in pain again, only for them to immediately droop back.

"Can I not take a little nap first? I'm really… tired…" he said, his pauses increasing between words.

"No!" she shouted. "You can sleep later; right now all I need you to do is tell me about your sister!"

The man started coughing and some blood came up. That was a bad sign. A perforated lung would almost certainly be deadly. Sarah found herself hoping that it was simply nicked. "Okay… okay…" he croaked out. "Jeez, you sound exactly like my sister… she's always bossing me around as well."

Sarah smiled at the remark. At least he hadn't lost his apparent sense of humor.

"Well, Ellie… Ellie is amazing. She's a doctor and she… she… she's seeing this guy named uh… Devon… but we call him Cap… Captain Awesome…"

"Why Captain Awesome?" _Where is that goddamn ambulance?_

"Because he does all kinds of awesome stuff… like… rock climbing… and… dental plan… chopsticks…"

"Whoa there, you're not making a lot of sense."

"But I'm so… tired…"

She heard the whine from the ambulance as it raced around the corner and once again she found herself hoping that it wasn't too late.

"Look… what do I call you?"

"Chuck…" he managed to whisper.

"Look Chuck, you're going to make it. You held out and now you're going to be fine."

"Will… will you be there when I… when I wake up?"

"Yes. Yes, I'll be there when you wake up."

"Thank… you… Just… if I don't…"

"No, Chuck, you're going to make it! You stayed awake the entire time and you were funny and you talked to me! You're going to be fine."

Chuck's eyes flew open and for a moment in time that almost couldn't be counted, his eyes displayed a clarity that she had never seen before. His gaze was so intense that she couldn't help but be drawn into his eyes. Just as fast, the clarity evaporated and he returned to his hovering state of lucidity. "Just… tell… Ellie Bartowski… that I love her… and always will… tell Morgan that he can have whatever he… wants… and tell Devon that… I hope it… works out… for the two of them."

His eyes closed and Sarah tried to shake him awake. She heard the doors of the ambulance open up and the paramedics rush out. The onlookers split apart to let the paramedics through as Sarah was frantically trying to get Chuck to open his eyes again. But they stayed close. His chest was still rising and falling, but only in short bursts. He was definitely having trouble breathing. His skin had gone ashen gray and the curls on his head were sticking to his skin. The paramedics hoisted him on the gurney and only then did Sarah realize that she was covered in blood. His blood.

She shook herself out of her stupor and stood up, running to the ambulance. The paramedics had just loaded him in the ambulance and were closing the door. She walked up to one of them. "I'm riding in this one as well."

"Are you a relative of some kind?"

"No. I'm the woman that just tried her hardest to save that man's life and he specifically asked for me to be there when he wakes up. I promised him I would and I'll be damned if I'm not there when he wakes up."

The paramedic gazed on the intense expression on Sarah's face and swallowed nervously. "Fine… but, things are looking very bleak. The way I see it, he has a possible punctured lung and a severed artery. It'll be a miracle if he survives."

She grabbed the man by his collar. "For your sake, he'd _better_ survive," she growled in a deathly voice. The paramedic was positively terrified and ran in the ambulance, immediately hooking things up and getting an IV flowing. Sarah climbed in the ambulance and sat down, holding on to Chuck's hand as the ambulance sped off towards Washington Hospital Center.

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><p><strong>En-route to Washington Hospital Center<br>Tuesday, December 14****th****, 2004  
>17:45<strong>

Sarah was still clutching Chuck's hand tightly as the paramedic did his best to stem the bleeding. He dove to the front and relayed his orders to the driver who grabbed his radio set. After some words that Sarah couldn't understand, they got an answer and the driver stuck his thumbs up. The paramedic looked back at Sarah.

"Alright miss…"

"Walker."

"Miss Walker. We have a severed artery and a nicked lung on our hands. While the lung's damage isn't too great, the artery's is. I had to clamp it off but he has already lost a lot of blood. We hooked him up to a blood pack through the IV but at this point in time, I'm afraid that I can't give you a percentage of survival. Things are still looking very bleak, but we have the best trauma surgery team waiting for his arrival."

She found herself to be squeezing Chuck's hand even harder at the news that he might not make it. _Why the hell am I so worried about this man? _Still, her personal turmoil over this entire situation would have to wait. She made him a promise and as she had told the paramedic, she was going to keep it. "Can you inform his family?"

"As soon as we're in the hospital we will try and get in touch with them," he promised her. It didn't put Sarah's anxiety to rest.

If she was honest with herself, she was in awe at the fact that this civilian had managed to still make jokes despite the situation at hand. After what seemed like an hour but was in fact closer to seven minutes, Sarah could feel the ambulance slowly decreasing in speed._ Oh thank God._

It took an excruciating minute, but finally the doors flew open and Chuck was wheeled out of the ambulance. With amazing speed his vitals were called out and orders were given. Sarah's hand hung motionlessly in the air where, moments before, Chuck's hand was safely snuggled in her palm.

She got up and walked through the doors in front of her, arriving in a trauma center. She saw Chuck's gurney being wheeled through the doors to the OR and stopped walking. Disoriented, she looked around her, not knowing what to do. She felt a hand on her shoulder and tensed for a millisecond before relaxing. She turned around and a woman of roughly forty years old looked at her with compassion. Sarah followed her gaze and noticed she was looking at the copious amounts of blood that her coat and shirt had accumulated.

"Let's get you cleaned up," she softly spoke. Sarah barely heard her over the beeping of the ECG's and the vents on which some patients were hooked up. Still, Sarah nodded and let the nurse lead her to the doctor's lounge. She got given a pair of scrubs and was led to the showers where she took a shower to wash the dirt, blood and sweat off of her. She managed to scrub it all off. The anxiety remained.

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><p><strong>Waiting room of Washington Hospital Center<br>Tuesday, December 14****th****, 2004  
>20:30<strong>

He had been in surgery for two and a half hours now. _Surely, that's a good sign, right?_ Sarah was sitting down after having frantically paced the waiting room for over one and a half hours. She finally calmed down somewhat with the promise that if there was news, she would hear it. She had been updated twice so far, but they were both in the "We're doing the best we can," category.

She forced herself to think about the reasons behind her erratic behavior. She knew that she wasn't acting like a spy. Hell, she wasn't even acting like someone who had possibly saved his life. No, she knew exactly how she was acting and she didn't like the conclusions that she was drawing. She was acting like a worried girlfriend.

No, she wasn't! She was going to act like the spy that she was trained to be. She slipped on her Agent mask, the mask that hid all emotions from the general view of mankind. She would be the stoic Agent Walker, known to be able to pull the trigger without remorse and known to never need help from anyone. She was the lone wolf and she would be damned if she would let that mask falter due to the fact that someone who was on the verge of dying was still making jokes, complimenting her and smiling at her.

The mask stayed on for roughly five seconds. After that, her leg started furiously bouncing up and down again. Sarah sighed. She desperately wanted to do something to take her mind off of things, but she knew it was hopeless. All she could do was sit and wait for the news to come. He'd either be dead or he'd be alive. Whatever the outcome, Sarah knew she was going to have to request some time off. If he was alive, she would be there for him. _At least until his sister arrives_, she told herself. _After that, I'll leave._ She almost believed it as well. And if he died, she would be here for his sister, to help her with the emotional grief that was sure to overcome her. Sarah would do what she did best; she would compartmentalize her emotions and continue on with her life.

She sighed again. Who was she kidding? A glance at him when he walked past her and a few comments exchanged. That was all it took for her to know that he was special. She let her head lull backwards. How did this day go to hell so fast? Only now did she realize how perfectly content she was with sitting at home and eating a pizza while watching crappy TV. Instead, she was sitting in a hospital's waiting room, praying to a higher power that a man that she didn't even know would survive so that she could… do what exactly? She had no idea. She just knew that he had to survive.

She groaned and at the same moment the doors flew open. A man in bloodied scrubs walked out with a chart in his hands. "Miss Walker?"

Sarah flew up. "That's me."

"We have some news. Please follow me."

Sarah swallowed once before walking after the surgeon.

_Please let him be okay._

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><p><strong>AN 2: **Hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know in a review what you think. All reviews add up to make my day just a little bit brighter and the chapters flow just a bit easier. Plus, I'm more motivated and stuff. So don't be shy, let me know. Otherwise, I might have to take matters into my own hands. *MUAHAHAHAHA*

please? :(


	2. The Waiting

**A/N: **Hey there, chapter two of this little tale. Just a side note, this story counts nine chapters, including the epilogue. Now, the epilogue will set some stuff up for a possible sequel, but will also serve as a nice ending to this tale, should I decide to not write one.

Once again a tremendous amount of thanks go to **ShinyJayne19 **for beta'ing this chapter like a boss and helping me out in sticky situations (not those kinds of situations…). A major 'thanks' goes out to everyone who has reviewed, added the story to his or her favorites or simply added it to their story alerts. I was truly overwhelmed by the amount of positive reviews I've gotten and I hope you continue to review this chapter as well. Hope you all enjoy it. Also, do not worry about the Scrubs characters; they merely serve as backdrop for this story. Also, if we're to purely look at the timing on the chapter, Scrubs would be in season 4, where J.D. and Elliot are nowhere near becoming a couple. But since they're discussing a season 8 topic, I figured their relationship would be in season 8 as well.

**DISCLAIMER: **Don't own Chuck or Scrubs. Glad I don't own Scrubs; I thought that show was amazing. Kind of bummed I don't own Chuck. If I did, I would've probably changed some things in vs. the Zoom. Don't have ANY medical expertise whatsoever. If facts are off they're done so because they either suit the story or I don't know the correct procedure.

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><p><strong>The Good Samaritan, Chapter 2<br>The Waiting**

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><p><strong>Waiting room, Washington Hospital Center<br>Tuesday, December 14****th****, 2004  
>20:45<strong>

_ Please just say something, anything!_

She stood in front of the surgeon whose attire had been similarly doused in blood. It reminded Sarah of her own clothes, not a few hours ago. She waited for what felt like an eternity. He slid his mouth cap down at an agonizing speed, but then again it seemed that the entire world had slowly ground to a halt.

Her heart started to flutter when she saw a small smile on the man's face. _Oh thank God._ "Miss Walker, the patient is…"

"Please, call him Chuck. Patient sounds so… formal… He's Chuck."

The surgeon smiled. "Very well. Chuck is alive. He survived the surgery, but he's lost a lot of blood. However, we managed to repair the artery in time. The fact that you instinctively reacted to the situation definitely helped save him." Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. "Furthermore, we managed to repair the damage to his lung. We've hooked him up to an IV and hope for him to wake up in roughly five hours or so. I suggest that you go home and get a nap. We will call you when he wakes up."

Sarah shook her head. "No, not going to happen. He asked me if I was going to be there when he woke up and I said yes. So I'll be staying by his bedside until he does."

The surgeon sighed. "Well, then at least let us provide you with a bed. We'll set it up next to him."

Sarah nodded her thanks and continued walking along with the surgeon. They approached a room with a massive glass window. As she peered through it, she could see _him. _His chest was rising and falling and even through the glass she heard the comforting beeping of the ECG, to let her know that he was still there. The tension that she had felt slowly started to melt and her shoulders started to relax. She turned towards the surgeon and stuck out her hand. "Thank you."

The man smiled and shook it. "You're very welcome."

Almost reverently, Sarah slid open the door and tiptoed her way to his side. His mouth was completely covered by what she figured would be the fan to regulate his breathing. Wires connected the multiple machines to Chuck's body, but she didn't care. He had survived and she would keep her promise.

She smiled at his supine body before turning around. The surgeon had moved away; probably to find a second bed. She took the time to look through the room. It would only hold one patient. The walls were painted a sterile white, which didn't do anything to improve the depressing mood that reigned in those kinds of rooms. It had a privacy curtain surrounding the bed that Chuck was lying in, as well as a TV that was positioned over the bed. There was a window overlooking the courtyard that the hospital owned. There was also a small desk on the left side of his bed that had a cup of water next to it. Sarah figured that it would serve to clear out his throat when he woke up. She rummaged through the little desk and found a notepad and pen. She quickly wrote a note for the surgeon to explain that she went home to grab a change of clothes and she would be right back. She tore the paper from the pad and put it on the top of the desk before turning towards Chuck again. She grabbed his hand and gave it a quick squeeze before picking up the duffel bag, turning around and walking out of the room.

She crossed the waiting room where she had been sitting for a couple of hours and she felt lighter. The weight that had been pressing down on her was finally relieved and Sarah gave a happy sigh. He wasn't out of the woods yet, but at least now he was well on his way.

She walked out of the hospital and hailed a cab. She gave the cabbie the address to her apartment and leaned back against the comfortable seat. The adrenaline had left her and she finally realized that she was exhausted from the worrying, the pacing and the fighting. She also realized that she had effectively stolen scrubs from the hospital. She couldn't find it in herself to care very much at that point in time. All she wanted to do… no, all she _needed_ to do was be there for Chuck. The rest of the world could wait for a few days. Agent Sarah Walker was on leave now.

* * *

><p><strong>Sarah's Apartment<br>Tuesday, December 14****th****, 2004  
>21:18<strong>

Sarah walked to her closet and yanked out various items of clothing—a couple of jeans, some shirts, blouses, a hoodie and a pair of tennis shoes. It would have to suffice. She wasn't planning on staying long, only until the sister had arrived. She mentally laughed as she remembered how implausible that sounded the first time she thought of it.

She emptied the duffel bag in the washer and stuffed the new clothes as well as a set of throwing knives in the bag. She shrugged herself out of the scrubs and donned the hoodie and jeans. Luckily, the nurse had left Sarah alone when she brought her the change of clothes, so she could stow her Smith and Wesson in the scrubs. She retrieved it and stuck it where it belonged, in the small of her back. She didn't bother putting her hair up so she simply let it down, her bangs framing her face. The shower had cleaned off Sarah's make up but she wasn't too worried about putting it back on. Instead, she grabbed her duffel and coat from her bed and walked back out of the apartment. The cab was still there as ordered. She got back in and directed him back to the hospital.

The trip didn't take too long and before she knew it, she was once again breathing in the stale air that was supplied by the air-conditioners and the copious amounts of bleach and other products meant to sterilize equipment. The fragrance sent shivers down Sarah's spine. She was never a big fan of hospitals, which given her chosen profession, would eventually end up being a problem. But she had bigger fish to fry, so she shook her head in an attempt to clear the fragrance from her nostrils and set foot towards the gift shop.

She knew that she wasn't the greatest conversationalist in the universe and figured that eventually the conversations that weren't being made on drugs would simmer down. So that meant that she had to prepare for the possibility of awkward silences. But if there was one thing that she was good in, it was preparation. She picked up stacks of magazines. She had no idea what Chuck would like but he didn't look like the kind of guy who would be hardcore into bodybuilding. And buying porno magazines just seemed creepy and not to mention, gross. So she bought a gaming magazine, a car magazine and a few gossip magazines. She didn't know how long his recovery period would be, but she figured that he would be able to kill some time with this. And if he didn't like some things, well than at least she had something to read. It wouldn't be the most social thing in the world to read while someone was in a hospital bed next to you but if worse came to wear, that's where it was headed.

She peered around and found some flowers. Her eyes immediately locked targets with the Gardenias. Sure, Gardenias were her favorite flower, but they made the room smell nice anyway, so she figured that Chuck wouldn't mind too much. She brought the flowers and magazines to the cash register and paid up. She was about to walk away when she saw a rack of cards. Sarah walked over curiously and looked at them. They were a plethora of get well cards. She figured they didn't have one that said 'Sorry you got stabbed', but the general thought behind it was nice. She picked up a card with a fluffy bear on it and a generic 'hope you get better soon' phrase on it. She paid for the card before stuffing it along with the magazines in her duffel bag and clutching the bouquet before trotting over to Chuck's room, intent on being there for him.

* * *

><p><strong>Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center<br>Tuesday, December 14****th****, 2004  
>20:45<strong>

Carefully she put down the flowers and card, trying to angle them so that they were the first thing he saw. She had no idea how long he would stay out of it, but she hoped that he wouldn't for a while. He looked exhausted, even in sleep. She looked around the room and saw a second bed deposited next to his. She made sure to silently drop the duffel bag to the side of the bed and grabbed a chair to sit at his bedside.

She lost herself to thoughts of the enigma in front of her. There was something different about this Chuck guy. She had seen him twice, once in the corner of her eye and once when he was bleeding out in front of her. He had then proceeded to do what almost no one had been able to do for quite some time. He made her laugh. He made her laugh while he was dying. What was weirder was that she so easily agreed to his plea for her to be there when he woke up and even weirder; she actually went through with it.

There was a definite connection between her and this man. Sarah didn't know what it was, it all felt foreign to her. It felt oddly pleasant though, which had been the main reason for her to stick around.

The continuous hum of the ventilator pumping air into Chuck's lungs along with the soothing sound of the ECG showing a steady heart-rate slowly caused her eyes to droop. She reached for his left hand, the one that didn't have an IV sticking out of it and held on to it, before letting her head lull backwards and succumbing to her exhaustion.

* * *

><p><strong>Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center<br>Tuesday, December 14****th****, 2004  
>21:12<strong>

Sarah's eyes shot open as she heard the door to the room slide open. A doctor walked in, engrossed in reading his chart. He looked pleasant enough, with light brown eyes and rumpled fair hair that had been brown but had begun to gray around the crown of his head. She shook herself awake and stood up, ready to give the doctor a proper greeting. She tousled her mussed up hair and straightened her shirt that had rumpled from the awkward posture that she was forced into to get some sleep while holding on to Chuck's hand.

"Oh, hi... I didn't see you there miss," the doctor admitted. He spoke with an Australian accent, something that Sarah found odd, given the fact that Australians were quite uncommon in D.C.

"Walker," Sarah replied. "And don't worry about it."

"Good evening, Miss Walker. I'm Doctor Spencer. May I ask how you're related to the patient?"

"Uh… I'm…" _Crap, why didn't I think this through?_ Sarah stalled, trying to find a suitable answer that would appease the doctor and not get her kicked out. Finally, she relented. "I'm his girlfriend."

"Ah," the doctor said, before scribbling something on his notepad. Sarah hoped that little lie wouldn't come back to haunt her. It didn't happen a lot but for the first time in a very long time, Sarah Walker was flustered. Things that she hadn't experienced for quite some time seemed to be happening quite regularly ever since Chuck had literally fallen into her arms.

The doctor kept quiet and checked on Chuck's vitals. He made a lot of "hmm's" and "aah's" but nothing that could be discerned as actual words. Sarah relaxed a bit, but she still had a few questions. Doctor Spencer however, seemed to be content with what he saw and moved out of the room, with a simple "Have a nice evening." She sprung up from her chair and glided after him. She called him when she had left the room, having no intention of waking up Chuck prematurely. She didn't know whether Chuck could hear her, but she didn't want to risk it either way.

Upon hearing his name, the doctor turned. "Ah, Miss Walker. What can I do for you?"

"I just had some questions about my boyfriend. I was wondering if you could help me with that."

"Sure, fire away."

_ This is just for cover-maintenance._ "I was wondering whether you could tell me about the recovery process. Is there something that he needs me to do?"

The man shook his head a little and laughed. "All you have to do is be there for him. He'll probably be here for a while to rest up. I'll also suggest physical therapy, but that's more or less to stimulate his legs again after being in bed for as long as he will be. He should wake up in a couple of hours. If he does, make sure that you alert the staff. Try and keep him calm until the nurses can remove his tube. After that, he should be lucid enough to talk but try and get him to go to sleep again. The surgery was invasive enough for him to hopefully be exhausted. And if you don't mind my saying, you should probably get a nap, if only for an hour. It'll do you much better and you will want to be awake enough to provide the proper support for him."

Sarah nodded. She could use a nap and would've happily kept sleeping had the doctor not come in. But her damn spy senses were working in overdrive so it wasn't like she could just let a potential threat pass. She knew how ridiculous it sounded to think that there would be a threat to Chuck in the hospital considering the fact that she had left two of his assailants broken and bloodied and the other had scurried away in haste, but there it was. "Thank you doctor, I'll make sure that I follow your advice."

"See that you do," he said with a grin before turning and moving on with his job. It made Sarah think about her own job. Time off really didn't suit Sarah too well. Hopefully now she could actually have something to do… or someone to talk to at least. And if he was boring, she'd just continue her daily routine after making sure that Chuck was okay. She estimated the chance of him being boring in the rough point five of a percent.

Sarah turned and walked back to the room. It was as she had left it, with Chuck looking ashen-faced, and exhausted. She was sure that her face mirrored the exhaustion. Gazing for a little moment, she decided that she would heed the doctor's advice and get some rest. She felt the beginnings of a crook in her neck from the awkward angle courtesy of the plastic chair and decided to lay down on the bed that had been graciously provided by the nurses.

She kicked off her shoes and laid herself on bed. Rummaging through her pockets, she pulled out her phone and set the timer for three hours. It would be enough to help Chuck when he woke up. She put the phone on the little desk, grabbed her gun from the small of her back which she then slid under the pillow and closed her eyes. She felt sleep overtake her as fast as it had done the first time and drifted off to a dreamless slumber.

* * *

><p><strong>Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center<br>Wednesday, December 15****th****, 2004  
>00:28<strong>

Sarah woke up to her alarm and rubbed her eyes. The nap definitely helped and she felt a bit better. She was still rather tired and would love to keep sleeping, but it was more important that she would be awake when Chuck woke. She racked her brain and remembered the instructions that the doctor had given her. But according to her estimations, it would still be some time before Chuck would wake up, so she had some time to kill.

She sat up and slipped back into her shoes. She made sure that Chuck was still out of it, before slipping her gun back in the waistband of her jeans and walking out of the recovery chamber. She decided to wander around the hospital to do something. She just had no idea what.

She walked out of the room and instinctively approached the lobby. She couldn't help but walk to the doors and step outside. The air was cold and she felt the goose bumps appear on her skin in record time. Still, she drudged on and walked outside. Outside, a group of three people in scrubs were huddled together around a heater. Sarah didn't know why, but she felt the need for some human connection. She walked over and decided to unceremoniously butt in.

"Good evening," she said, as she absentmindedly rubbed her arms in an effort to warm herself up. She noticed that there were three doctors there, a black man who was bald, a white man with hair that indicated he had spent quite some time on perfecting it, and a woman with long strayed blonde hair. All three looked like they hadn't had a decent night's rest in quite some time.

The black doctor and the stray-haired woman looked up. The other doctor however, had a faraway gaze. She noticed the black doctor glancing back before his gaze fell upon his companion. He developed a grin on his face. He surreptitiously nodded at gelled-hair doctor and got a grin in return. The stray-haired doctor took off her nametag and handed it to the black doctor who, with a dexterity that had matched Sarah's with her knives, switched the two tags. The two doctors chuckled, while gelled-hair doctor kept his glazed expression. It started to become unnerving and Sarah leaned to the blonde doctor. "What's happening?" she softly asked.

"Every time he sees a beautiful woman, he has to imagine her in slow motion with a wind machine. It sounds pretty weird but that's just how he is. We simply use the time that he's out of it to play pranks on him."

"Oh…" Sarah said, not really sure on how to deal with the information given to her. She started to get a bad feeling about approaching these people. _How in the world are they doctors?_

Finally, gel-hair as Sarah had dubbed him in her mind, snapped out of it. "Ha!" he triumphantly exclaimed. "I've gotten better at it. Now there is no chance that you guys can prank me whenever it happens."

"You're right, J.D.," the blonde doctor said, her eyes dancing with glee.

"So now that J.D. is back," the black doctor stated, "can we help you, ma'am?"

Sarah shook her head. "It's nice to be able to talk to some people again, that's all."

"Oh…" the doctor with the gelled up hair trailed off. His nametag, before being swapped read John Dorian, M.D. "Hey, by any chance, are you from around this area?"

"Uh, yeah, I have an apartment close by," she responded, confused as to why that would be of interest to the doctors.

"Great, could you help us solve a problem? Basically, Turk here thinks that Steak Maestros is the better restaurant, but I'm convinced that Steak Cookers is superior."

"J.D.," the stray-haired woman hissed. "You don't ask that to a random person!"

"It was a fair question, Elliot. I'm sorry if our questions bother you," J.D. defended.

Elliot puffed her bangs out of her face. "I'm sorry," she said and faced Sarah. "This is what I have to put up with every day."

"Yeah, but you love me anyway," J.D. cut in.

Elliot sighed, rolled her eyes and nodded. Sarah had to stifle a chuckle. These were by far the oddest three people she had ever met, and they were doctors. She hoped she would never have to be treated there. It probably wouldn't end well.

"For what it's worth, I think that Cookers is better," Sarah unevenly said. It was true, the times that she had gone to Cookers, her filet was broiled to perfection and the steak had retained its flavor perfectly. Maestros was good, but not as good as Cookers.

"Ha! In your face," J.D. said in a singsong. Turk looked defeated.

"Look at what you've created," Elliot said in exasperation. "Now he'll be gloating about it for days." She puffed the bangs out of her face that had fallen there when she chided Sarah.

"Sorry?" Sarah tried. This had moved into the category for weirdest conversation ever territory. Considering the fact that she had spent time discussing the merits of rat poison as a viable way to kill someone, it said a lot about the conversation that she was currently a part of.

"So why are you here? Someone needed to be sliced open?" the black doctor, she had learned his name was Christopher Turk, asked.

"Oh my God," Elliot shouted in an unnaturally high pitch. "Have you two never learned how to have a conversation with normal people?" Sarah had to fight a smirk at the notion that she was normal but she kept her cool façade.

"Something like that," she replied to Turk. She debated telling them that she was Chuck's girlfriend but decided it wasn't necessary. "I'm with Chuck Bartowski. He uh, got stabbed and I was there so I helped him out."

"That was you?" Elliot asked. "Nice job, I heard you saved his life."

"Uh, thanks, I guess. Just happy to do my civil duty is all. But how do you know about Chuck?"

"I checked in on him an hour or so ago. So it was you in that bed, huh? If you don't really have a connection to him, why are you still here, if I may ask?"

"I made him a promise that I would be there when he woke up and I'm honoring that promise." Elliot nodded and let the topic fade away. Sarah's curiosity however, was piqued. "How come I didn't notice you come in? I'm a light sleeper yet I wasn't roused."

Elliot pointed down to her shoes and only then did Sarah notice she was wearing roller skates. "Helps getting around quicker," she shrugged. Sarah nodded politely but her mind reaffirmed that these people were truly oddballs.

"Well," Sarah said, faking a yawn, "I guess it's time I go back. Thanks for allowing me to just… talk again." The three doctors all politely nodded and Sarah backed off. She shook her head in mirth and glanced at her watch. She had managed to shave off half an hour and by the surgeon's estimations, Chuck would be awake in forty-five minutes. She reached the doors when she heard the crescendo of three beepers simultaneously going off. A pit formed in her stomach and she hoped that it was unrelated, but somehow, she knew. The words that followed didn't do anything to quell her fear.

"Mr. Bartowski is coding!" Elliot called, before taking off and bursting through the doors. Sarah took off after her.

_ Oh no._

* * *

><p><strong>Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center<br>Wednesday, December 15****th****, 2004  
>00:59<strong>

"Blood pressure is dropping, fast!" Elliot called out.

"Heart rate is dropping and skin is paling. I think he's bleeding out," J.D. cried in response.

"Alright, Turk call the O.R., tell them we're coming in fast."

Elliot grabbed the head end of the bed while J.D. latched on to the foot end. Turk ran to the phone and dialed an extension. He waited a beat before barking orders into the phone. "Need an O.R. for a possible bleeder… They're on the way… alright," he finished and hung up the phone. He took off after the two doctors, but not before telling Sarah to stay in the room. They would update her on Chuck's status but she couldn't help him now. All she could do was sit back, let the doctors do their job and hope for the best. The anxiety that had run rampant earlier that day was back with a vengeance and Sarah quickly found herself pacing the room. She didn't wait very well, unless it was for a mission.

_ Of course!_ _Just treat this like it's a mission._

She toed over to the bed and sat down. _It's just a mission. Chuck is an asset and I don't have any sort of obligation towards him. If he dies, he dies. That's all. You've already burned assets before, this is just like that._

She felt a shiver crawl its way up her spine and it didn't have anything to do with the temperature. Her line of reasoning didn't have the soothing effect it used to have. Instead, it put her in a full blown panic. What was it about him that made him so different to her? Whatever it was, she wasn't about to let him die so she did the only thing she could. She wasn't religious; she had lost her faith a long time ago. But there was literally nothing she could do but hope and pray. She linked her hands and started muttering.

"I don't know if I'm doing this right, but please,God… let him be ok. Just let him pull through… please?"

* * *

><p><strong>Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center<br>Wednesday, December 15****th****, 2004  
>01:38<strong>

Dr. Turk walked in and swiped his head with the bandana that she had seen him wearing outside. "Miss…"

"Walker," Sarah automatically said.

"Miss Walker. Mr. Bartowski pulled through again. His stitches popped but we were there in time and managed to stop the bleeding. We've re-sutured him and we also pulled him off of the vent. He should be able to breathe on his own. He will be wheeled back in soon but we had to put him under again. We're expecting him to wake up in around an hour or two. I suggest you get some sleep."

Sarah nodded her thanks and felt the tension melt away a little bit. Chuck had pulled through once again. He truly was a fighter. And it meant that she could still honor her promise. Turk turned and left the room and Sarah once again put her phone on a timer. She gave herself an hour of sleep before being there for him again. She settled down against the pillow but sleep was harder to come by. Thoughts of him dying kept flitting through her mind. Death had been a part of Sarah's life for quite some time. While she didn't officially become a spy until after her Red test, only two years ago, being a spy automatically meant that dealing with death would become a common occurrence. So why did it feel so different?

Sarah wasn't stupid, she knew she had gained some sort of connection with Chuck, she just didn't know what it was and what it meant. And worst of all, she wasn't sure if she really liked the way things would head if they would continue like this. Silently, she prayed for him to be a jerk so she wouldn't have to deal with it. But just like the pager incident, somehow she knew that he wasn't. She knew that she couldn't walk away just yet. She knew that it would be a difficult time for Chuck and she also knew that she was going to enjoy spending time with him. The only thing she didn't know was whether it was a smart idea. But she decided to throw caution in the wind and simply be around. That was all she had going for her anyway, so why not embrace it?

Satisfied, she settled against the pillow again and felt sleep overtake her once again. The nightmare was back.

* * *

><p><strong>Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center<br>Wednesday, December 15****th****, 2004  
>02:28<strong>

Sarah woke up with a short scream. They used to be long and drawn out and it would always be the same dream about that horrible night in Paris. But she had learned to control herself somewhat. She wasn't surprised when Chuck's bed was back where it belonged when she woke up. It seemed that the three doctors she had met outside had a knack for being silent. She turned off the alarm on her phone and shimmied back into her shoes. Once more, she sat down on the plastic chair and linked her hand with Chuck's.

"Hi," she whispered. "You gave me quite a scare you know…" she trailed off as she realized that she was talking to herself. Still, it felt somewhat comforting so she decided to continue.

"I don't know what it is, but somehow you've managed to become the highlight of my week. Obviously that's not meant to imply that I think what happened to you was good but… wow, I really _am_ bad with words," she chuckled. "I suppose that I am in awe of you. There aren't a lot of people that can make me laugh and even less that can do it while almost certainly mortally wounded."

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "I don't get scared a lot. It hasn't happened in a while and yet, I felt my heart beating a mile a minute when those doctors told me that you were crashing. I suppose I've grown attached to you, which is insanity in itself because I don't grow attachments. It's just not in my nature. And I've only heard you utter between ten and twenty sentences and already I feel like I can trust you implicitly." She sighed again and began softly drawing circles with her thumb on his hand. "Trust in my business is hard to come by, so you've got that going for you. Also, I think your family is on its way. I forgot to ask, but I hope they'll be here soon. I can't imagine what it's like to live on the other side of the country and hearing that your sibling is in danger of dying. Luckily, I don't have that problem… me and my sister; we haven't exactly been on speaking terms lately." She chuckled and amended her statement. "Actually, we haven't spoken in over fifteen years."

She released his hand and leaned on his bed, staring at his face intently. "I just wish you were awake, you know. Partly because it would mean that I've completed my promise to you, but mostly because even though I know it'll probably be a really bad idea, I just want to get to know you. You can pat yourself on the back again as that's the first time I've ever used that particular sentence…"

"Well, your wish has been granted. But could you get me some water first? My throat is killing me," she heard a voice croak.

Her eyes shot up and she was staring in his eyes and she swore she lost herself for a second. She regained her footing however and said the only thing that came to her. "Hi… I'm Sarah."

"Hi Sarah… I'm Chuck."

* * *

><p><strong>AN 2: **Okay, I'm going to try and get a weekly posting of this fic, starting in 2 weeks. Next week won't feature another chapter (sorry) because I will be using that week to pen another chapter of BUABS with **ShinyJayne19**. So look for that one to appear soon. Thank you for reading and please leave a review, so I know me slaving over this hasn't been for naught.


	3. The Awakening

**A/N: **"No week delay?" I hear you ask. well, no. There are a couple of reasons, one of them being that this chapter had been done for a week now, just sitting there. But the more important reason is because this week will be a ridiculously hectic one for me and I don't know when I will find time to write. So I figured that I'd throw it up and when things will (inevitably) become a bit too much (in studying and doing projects for school and what not) I can look at the reviews and get a smile on my face. Weird reason? Maybe, but in the end, you people profit!

Once again, a few thanks before you get to the chapter. First off, thanks to you, the reader for still sticking along. A massive thanks to everyone who takes the time to review this tale. I think readers truly underestimate how nice it feels to get a review, so please, even if it's just to let me know you enjoy the story, I urge you to tell me so. They're the only way for me to guess if people care at all and that's why I value them so much. A huge amount of thanks goes out to **ShinyJayne19**, for beta'ing and generally brightening my day when I'm down. Enjoy the chapter.

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Chuck, Scrubs or any sort of book with medical information. I do watch a boatload of medical shows though, so when people ask if there's a doctor around, I usually raise my hand!

* * *

><p><strong>The Good Samaritan, Chapter 3<br>The Awakening**

* * *

><p><strong>Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center<br>Wednesday, December 15****th****, 2004  
>02:38<strong>

"Hi Sarah, I'm Chuck," he greeted all smiles. His voice had gradually become less hoarse after taking a sip of water from the glass that had been deposited next to his bed.

Noting his wakefulness, Sarah mentally kicked herself. _Oh crap! Did he hear all of that?_

"I know," she told him somewhat tensely. Chuck looked at her, wide eyes and mouth open before letting it snap shut again. A snort escaped his lips, followed by a grin which ended in a full blown belly laugh. Both confused and unsettled by this, Sarah rushed to him.

"Chuck, are you okay? What's going on? Do I need to call a doctor?"

She felt him starting to stroke her arm while his laughing fit slowly ebbed into giggles. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about me, I'm fine… You know, if you were still alive, you would've made an _amazing_ Han Solo."

"Huh?" was her eloquent response.

Chuck furrowed his brow. "What do you mean, huh? I mean, I know Han Solo is technically a guy, but that's semantics really. And besides, you're beautiful enough to be cast as well… anyone really."

"Uh, sure…" Sarah started, not quite sure how to approach this particular non sequitur. "But how do you mean 'if I was still alive?'"

Chuck looked at her with the same gaze he had given her a few days before. It was one of pure clarity and again she found her losing herself in the seemingly endless depths of his eyes. It lasted for a beat before he seemed content and his eyes regained their slightly glazed over state. "It's because you're an angel of course." He dropped that particular bomb with pure conviction, even managing to throw in a nod as extra emphasis, leaving the 'duh' unspoken.

Sarah's confusion was replaced by relief. She grinned when recalling how Chuck had told her the same exact thing when he was dying. He was still doped up. He probably wouldn't remember a thing the day afterwards. Apparently his 'help, I'm dying' and 'I am doped up on meds' states of mind were quite similar. "Sorry to disappoint, Chuck. I'm not an angel."

"Is that some sort of new policy?" He cocked his head adorably. "Because I'm pretty sure that they never revealed that in _Touched by an Angel._ Which I totally didn't watch because I actually enjoyed it… Ellie practically forced me into it. She said it was great and that I'd like it too…." As he trailed off, Sarah merely raised an eyebrow at the drivel Chuck was continuously spouting. It actually seemed like he started to sweat a bit. He acquiesced. "Fine, okay, I watched it because I _sorta_ liked it. It was stupid, not the show, but keeping something like that from an angel anyway, it wasn't like you didn't know already. But please…" he drifted off a second time, conspiringly beckoning her forward. Sarah felt shivers as his warm breath gently breezed over her ear. "Don't tell anyone."

Sarah snorted. "I won't, don't worry." She pulled back, but Chuck gripped her wrist. _He has a surprisingly strong grip for someone who has only just gotten over a near-death experience. _

He looked worried. "Are you sure you won't tell? I still have somewhat of a rep to protect and if this got out they'd do something drastic like revoke my nerd authority or at the very least take my man-card. I don't want them to take my man-card, I'm still single," he finished on a somewhat desperate note.

"I promise that I won't tell anyone that you watched and liked _Touched by an Angel_, Chuck," she assured him.

He released his grip on her wrist before sinking back in the bed. "Good," he sighed. "I know that angels are usually very trustworthy, but I had to be sure y'know."

"It's better to be safe than sorry," she smiled, thinking back to the times that particular statement had rung true for her. "But just so we're clear, I'm really not an angel, Chuck. I'm human, just like you are. Trust me."

Chuck nodded and once again he beckoned her closer. Sarah did as he asked and this time, reveled in the feel of his breath ghosting against her ear. "Your secret is safe with me," he whispered before his eyes flicked up towards the roof. Sarah tried to stop the snort from coming out but failed miserably. She felt the corners of her mouth tug upwards as she backed off, shaking her head in mirth. "So, not-angel Sarah…" He not-quite surreptitiously winked at her. "How are things?"

She stood undecided for a moment, before shrugging and grabbing the plastic chair. She proceeded to sit down and shoot the breeze with a recent stabbing victim about her cover life, neatly interwoven with the fact that apparently she was an angel. Angels, as it turned out, were also inherently talented at accounting.

* * *

><p><strong>Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center<br>Wednesday, December 15****th****, 2004  
>03:15<strong>

"…And I'm not joking, he cried for like ten minutes," Chuck went on animatedly, using his one arm for gesticulations.

"All of that, just because of the fact that he had to fix an old computer?" Sarah asked in shock. She couldn't believe that a grown man might actually cry because the insides of a computer were _old._ The good news however, was that over the time Chuck had become more lucid and aware of what was going on. The bad news was that slowly but surely, the pain would return. She could see him grimacing already.

"Yeah, Morgan is quite special. Don't get me wrong, I love him like a brother… he's just a bit eccentric is all," he smiled brightly.

"I'll say," Sarah concurred. She looked at him and saw the grimace becoming worse with every minute that passed. The room was still somewhat dark, the only light in the otherwise pitch blackness emanating from the various monitors that read out Chuck's vitals. Still, they clearly illuminated his face. She noticed a small spike in his blood pressure, probably due to the increase in pain. Basic field medicine and a healthy dose of common sense told her that he should try and get some rest. As much as she was enjoying the drug-induced banter (which she hoped he would remember in the morning. He seemed to be the kind of person that was fun to tease about these things. Granted, she'd rather he forgot everything that she had divulged about herself. She didn't do sharing well) it wasn't healthy for him to be awake. "I think it's time we called it a night," she offered.

"I suppose," he said, before grabbing his bed remote and lowering it to a supine position. "Will you be here when I wake up?"

Sarah couldn't help but smile as she thought back to when he first asked that. "Of course I will be." She felt Chuck's hand searching hers and she allowed him to grab it, relishing in the comforting warmth that his palm infused in hers.

She heard rustling as Chuck pulled the covers up to his chin, before turning so that he was facing Sarah. "Sarah…"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you for being my guardian angel."

"You're welcome, Chuck."

His breathing eased out over the course of time and slowly but surely, Sarah felt her eyelids starting to droop. She contemplated releasing his grasp, but it felt too comfortable. So she softly turned the chair so it was facing Chuck's bed and laid her head on the mattress. She couldn't explain why, but she had an innate desire to tell him one more thing.

"Thank you for allowing me to be one," she whispered, and drifted off. For the first time in a long while, her dreams were pleasant.

* * *

><p><strong>Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center<br>Wednesday, December 15****th****, 2004  
>09:45<strong>

"Good morning, Mr. Bartowski," the nurse cheerfully exclaimed when she entered the room.

Sarah blinked a couple of times in confusion, before she realized what was going on. She realized she was still holding on to Chuck's hand and released it like it was on fire. _Why did I grab his hand? Damn sleep deprivation is making me lose my professional judgment_. Unfortunately, Chuck Bartowski was also awake, courtesy of 'overly-ambitious nurse' and he had not missed the way they woke up. His cheeks flushed an adorable red as he tried to literally disappear in the confines of his bed.

The nurse did the job she was supposed to do, checked the suturing (and even though Sarah promised not to peek, she couldn't help herself, only to be pleasantly surprised as her eyes hungrily roamed his upper chest area) and his vitals before sending in some breakfast. He was thoughtfully munching on a sandwich when his cheeks reddened again.

"Is something the matter, Chuck?" Sarah asked as she longingly looked at the breakfast tray. She hadn't been able to get a single bite down her throat ever since the incident.

"Uh, no…" Chuck said as he sneaked a look at Sarah and slid his apple over to her. "You look kind of hungry," he offered as explanation.

Gratefully she grabbed the apple. "Thank you," she replied appreciatively, before nibbling at the apple. It tasted divine, but maybe it was a combination of the hunger she felt and the gesture of Chuck. They ate in silence for a while, before Sarah decided that the jig was up. "You were blushing a few minutes ago. What was that all about?"

"I sort of remembered a few things from last night."

Sarah's eyebrows shot up. _Oh no. _"Like what?"

"Well, for one, you've saved my life. So… I'm not quite sure what the proper etiquette for thanking life savers is, but from the bottom of my heart, thank you. If there's anything I could ever do to repay you, you just have to ask. Granted, I could probably only repay you by helping you with computers and whatnot, but I'd be happy to do that." _Well if that's the worst he got, I dodged a serious bullet there._

"Don't worry about it, Chuck." She only just held in her little outburst about the fact that it was her job._ No, it's your job to complete missions given to you by Graham,_ a different voice reminded her. _ This wasn't a mission, but a random stranger on the street. You know damn well that this wasn't the job._ She willed the voice to be quiet. "But I doubt that's anything to be _that_ embarrassed about." _Please say that that was what you were embarrassed about and not my little speech!_

Chuck started fidgeting with the covers. "Well, I may remember that you like vegetarian pizza without olives…"

"What the… how?" Sarah began digging through her memory when it came to her. It was such an innocuous question. _So what do angels eat?_ And she had told him that she particularly cared for vegetarian pizza with no olives. It was around the time that she had given up trying to correct Chuck and simply went with the flow. But for him to remember that particular detail hit very close to home.

"Was I not supposed to know that?" Chuck asked, his voice quiet with a hint of disappointment.

"No… I mean… I don't know. It's just that… not a lot of people know that about me and I kind of thought you wouldn't remember."

Chuck perked up. "I'm good at remembering things. Such as the fact that you're an accountant and that I…" he trailed off again, casting his eyes downwards to look at his hands, still fidgeting with his cover. "I may or may not have insisted that you were an angel last night... God that was a stupid thing to do, Sarah, I'm sorry for putting that on you. I just didn't know where my mind was and I…" he trailed off as he saw the hurt look on Sarah's face.

His words shouldn't have any effect. She had wanted him to forget after all. But when he told her that it was a stupid thing to do, all the compliments that he had paid her, it hurt. "So you didn't mean any of it?" she asked. Her voice didn't waver, which had more to do with the fact that Sarah was a quality actress than anything else.

"Really?" he asked. Sarah nodded. "I did… but I mean… I wouldn't say it out loud… because that's disrespectful and my sister has always taught me that there was more than meets the eye, but I'm pretty sure that if I hadn't been… stabbed… I would've passed out anyway, simply from you saying hello to me and… and I'm making the world's worst third impression on you."

Sarah repressed a relieved sigh and smiled. So he did mean it after all. It made her feel better, only for her to question why it did. But before she could dissect what it all meant a question popped up in her mind. "Third impression?"

Chuck held up three fingers and started ticking them off. "The first impression you got of me was when I was bleeding out on your clothes… I'm sorry about that, by the way. Just… send me the dry-cleaning bill… Anyway, the second impression you got of me was when my brain to mouth filter had taken a serious beating from the meds and well, here we are for the third impression, which is just as bad as the earlier two are… so I'm sorry about that."

Sarah had to bite her lip to keep herself from spilling the fact that the first impression he had made on her was when she did a double take at him, but as much as she thought it adorable to watch him squirm. She had no intention of entering the territory that that particular remark would bring them in. So she deflected. "It's not as bad as you think. And don't worry about the dry-cleaning. You had other stuff on your mind. Like making sure you wouldn't die for example."

Chuck snickered. "So you _do_ have a sense of humor! I like that." He quickly groaned when he realized how it sounded. "Not like you have to impress me or something… God forbid you think you have to impress me… what I meant to say was that I like… you don't have to… I wasn't trying to suggest that we… I'm sorry," he finished, defeated. "As you can probably tell, I don't have much experience talking with beautiful women." It was followed by a wince. Obviously, the medicine had stopped working and he was feeling the full effects of being sliced open not even twenty-four hours ago.

"That's okay Chuck. I think it'd be best if you take a nap. I'll try and find some more medicine for you." That wasn't the only reason that she wanted him to take a nap. The real reason was that she was flustered. It didn't happen a lot. As a matter of fact, the last time it had happened had been the day before when the doctor asked what her association to Chuck was. But Chuck had a way about him that not a lot of people possessed. He made you want to open up. And that scared her.

"Hey, before I go to sleep… thanks for the flowers and the card." He grinned at her which she gladly returned.

"You're very welcome," she said, before turning around. She walked out and looked for a nurse. Instead she found the stray-haired doctor; her name was Elliot she remembered, sipping a cup of coffee.

"Good morning," she said. Sarah found her to be quite chipper for someone who hadn't slept in a while. She couldn't relate. While she had often gone without sleep during her days in the Agency, she still hated it if she couldn't get her regular ten hours.

"Good morning," she said slipping on her agent mask. It was surprisingly easier to do it around someone whose name wasn't Chuck. "I was wondering if you could administer some medicine to Chuck. He seems to still be in some pain and I thought it best if he would get some sleep or something."

"Uh, sure. I'll have the nurses set up a morphine drip."

Sarah blinked. "Isn't that sort of customary after surgery?"

"Usually, it is. But budget cuts are forcing us to cut back on all kinds of things and it's gone so far that we now can't afford to hook up morphine as a basis. So we hand out Vicodin, unless the patient is complaining. Usually there's a lot more bureaucratic nonsense involved than simply asking, but we're trying to better the care for our patients, not worsen it. So I'll take care of it."

Sarah nodded gratefully and walked back to the recovery room. "Chuck, they're getting you some morphine. It should help with the pain and allow you to fall back asleep."

Chuck nodded. "But what will you do? Are you going back home? It's fine if you do, totally within your right. You must be exhausted, so please don't let me keep you here. As much as I've enjoyed having you here there's no…"

"Chuck," Sarah quickly cut in, mainly to stop his incessant rambling. "Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere."

"Wow, you must have like… a ton of days off or something."

Sarah grinned. "Something like that, yes."

"Hmm, well, for what it's worth, I appreciate having someone to talk to. I think I'd go insane if I couldn't talk to someone."

"Yeah, I kind of got that impression."

Chuck clutched his chest in mock-agony and maybe a smidge of real agony as well. "You wound me miss…"

"Walker."

Chuck didn't miss a beat. "Miss Walker. You truly do."

"I'm sorry." She wasn't in the slightest.

Chuck was about to respond when Elliot walked in with a bag of morphine. "Good morning, Mr. Bartowski," she cheerfully greeted.

"Good morning," he said as a look of glee came over him once he had eyed the morphine. Elliot went to work and before long, she had hooked up the IV to the needle in Chuck's hand. He sunk back in the mattress and sighed in relief. "Thank you,"

"You're welcome," she said, before nodding politely to Sarah and leaving the room.

Sarah noticed that the drugs seemed to have an immediate effect and his eyes started to glaze over again. Before he lost consciousness however, he had time to look at Sarah with a grin on his face. "Will you be there when I wake up?"

Sarah gave him a toothy grin. "Is that still up for debate?"

"Kind of, yeah."

"Don't worry Chuck. I'll be here when you wake up."

"Thanks…" he mumbled, before softly starting to snore. Sarah got up, but not before feeling a pang that she hadn't felt in quite some time. She found him to be adorable. That was when the warning signs really started to flash for her. And this time, Chuck wasn't there to distract her. Quickly, she walked out of the room, needing to find a spot where she could recuperate.

* * *

><p><strong>Cafeteria, Washington Hospital Center<br>Wednesday, December 15****th****, 2004  
>10:38<strong>

The cafeteria wasn't crowded. There were a few empty tables that had been strategically placed throughout the area that the cafeteria had occupied. It reminded Sarah of the cafeteria in her high school in San Diego. She quickly shook those memories away. High school was _not_ a good time for Sarah Walker, or as she had been known by then, Jenny Burton.

Quietly, she sat in one of the metal chairs around a table, mindlessly nibbling on a sandwich while running the conversations and the feelings she had felt when she was with Chuck through her mind. She had been uncharacteristically… giddy throughout her time with him. And she had opened up… to another human being. Sarah had never opened up. No, Chuck would never know what he had accomplished but there it was. Sarah Walker had connected to another human being, even if she thought he was simply asleep. But she did tell him about her fears. She had never done that, not to someone who was still breathing, whether he or she was awake or not. And she had opened up at a rate that left her frightened.

She most definitely knew the trouble that she was facing. She didn't have to be a trained spy to realize that Chuck was attracted to her. The adorable blush told her that much. And she would be lying to herself if she said that she wasn't in the least bit interested. She found herself wanting to spend time with him, learn what makes him tick. He didn't seem like the hero type, which made his acceptance of getting stabbed all the more amazing. Plus, the fact that he could joke about it struck something inside Sarah. She had never grinned as much as she had done when she was with Chuck.

Sarah hadn't ever been in love, so she didn't quite know how it would feel, if that was even the case in this situation. What she did know was that the feelings that she got when he made her laugh and the feeling that she had gotten when she thought he didn't mean all the compliments he had paid her in his drug-induced haze, were very different from what she had felt throughout her life. She had been able to correctly name all the emotions she had had so far. Pride when her father or the Director would compliment her on a successful mission. Terror when she saw her target of her Red test swirl around, clutching what she thought to be a pistol. Dread when she received her first seduction mission and elation when it turned out that it didn't involve sexual intercourse. The director had promised her that she was too valuable a talent to be given a long term seduction assignment, so she was mostly put on the job to lure the target away so other people could take over. She even got to do the interrogation herself once.

She may have enjoyed that particular assignment a bit more than strictly necessary.

But the emotion that had been most prevalent in her life had been a general sense of disgust with the human race. Slowly but surely, Sarah was turning into a misanthrope. Everyone she met had an agenda that was made to further their own cause. She had seen the vilest of vile human beings and had begun to see the world for what it truly was. Egotistical and self-centered.

She cherished her job, for it gave her the opportunity to rid the world of all the oligarchs and other assorted douche bags that inhibited the Earth. It gave her a sense of fulfillment when she could look Graham in the eye and state with pure confidence that it was done. That she had rid the world of yet another evil. It made her feel included in the world. The woman behind the curtain, making sure that every person in America could have a shot at their version of the American Dream. Sarah's dream had long since ceased to exist. Every day was just a further reminder of that fact.

But all that had changed when she met Chuck. His jovial attitude had flipped a switch within Sarah. One that she wasn't sure she wanted to have switched. Her notion of every human being, being evil in his or her own way had been shattered by him. He was stabbed and he wasn't angry, or upset. Hell, he wasn't even scared. All he cared for was to know that his sister and his friends would be okay.

Movies had overly romanticized the notion of dying people making last requests like that. Most of the time they were too busy freaking out or trying to take a last jab at the person responsible for their impending death, Sarah knew. After all, she had been the one that those people talked to last often enough. But not Chuck. He was truly selfless enough to try and make sure that if it would all go south, that if it was truly his time, that at least his sister would have some form of comfort.

It touched Sarah to her core. And it scared her. She knew she had to take her distance. She knew she had to back out of the hospital and never see him again. If not for her own good, at least for his. Even if she wanted to, which she still was vehemently denying, she could never start something with him. She could only imagine the horror of dating a deep cover spy. Sitting at home, never knowing whether or not your partner or significant other or lover had been killed in action. Never knowing whether or not he or she was screwing somebody else all in the name of the greater good.

Of course the other option was that she would resign from field duty. Cut her losses and leave the business before it killed her. Settle down; get a nine-to-five job, two point five children and a white picket fence. Her own American Dream.

She shook her head out of her crazy thoughts. _What the hell am I thinking?_ Not even twenty-four hours after first meeting him she was already contemplating throwing her entire career away for… _Oh I might as well accept it._ For him.

No. She wasn't going to do this. She wasn't going to drop everything she had for him. She could do this. She was having fun with him, that much was a given. And she would continue to have fun with him... and feel _normal _during her time off for a change, instead of the woman with nothing to live for but her job... until she would get a new mission. She would say her goodbye and never see him again. Or he would be discharged and sent home. Either way, she could enjoy her time with him and never see him again. No heartbreak, since there was nothing there to begin with.

With a new resolve, she stood up and discarded her tray. Sarah Walker, for the first time, would have fun during her time off from missions. And after all was said and done, she would say goodbye to Chuck, thank him for the joy that he had managed to bring to her life and never see him again, before collapsing back into the only thing that had ever felt like a home to her… the CIA.

_Now where is his damn family?_

* * *

><p><strong>Receptionist desk, Washington Hospital Center<br>Wednesday, December 15****th****, 2004  
>11:01<strong>

Slowly, Sarah began to get frustrated. She huffed and slapped the little bell in front of her again. "Hello?" she called out. She was well aware of the fact that not everyone could instantly drop what they were doing to help her, but she'd been standing at the desk for five minutes. Enough was enough.

Once more she pressed down on the bell, the incessant ringing like nails over a chalkboard. Finally, it seemed like someone had heard her pleas and she saw an old woman shuffling from the room in the back. Sarah winced at her own thoughts. "I'm sorry for disturbing you, miss. But I would like to get some information on a Chuck Bartowski?"

The woman started tapping on her keyboard. _At least something's happening now._

"I'm sorry, there's no Chuck Bartowski in our registry."

"What? How is that possible? He's lying in the ICU. He just underwent surgery. How can he not be in your system?"

"Uh…" the woman croaked and Sarah felt like hurting someone over the incompetence she was witnessing. How was it that a recently admitted patient did _not_ have a file? "Oh, here it is," she said after what felt like a year had passed. "The attending surgeon did not know his last name and we input the new data at around five p.m."

"So… if you didn't know his last name… that means that his family hasn't been informed yet?"

"That's right," the older woman said. Sarah's hand twitched to her Smith and Wesson, only to realize that it was still lying under the pillow. _I hope Chuck doesn't decide to start wandering._ At the same time, she wanted to scream at the pure incompetence that had just gone up a notch.

She forced a smile on her face and thanked the older woman before stalking off. She had turned a corner when she pressed up flush against the wall and peered around the corner. _Who knew? Guess I get to use some of my spy skills after all. _She could only imagine how odd it looked to a random passer-by, but Chuck's family deserved to know as soon as possible. His sister had to fly in from Los Angeles after all. Sometimes, having eidetic memory really was a blessing. She grinned as she remembered repeating that particular mantra not twenty-four hours ago. _So much has happened in such a small time span._

She saw the older woman turn back into the little room that she had come out from a few minutes earlier and timed her run. It wasn't so much a run as it was speed-walking, but she still made good time. She peered through the door and heard the sounds of cupboards being opened and the unmistakable sound of an old model coffee machine. If the older woman would stay with her coffee until it was done, she had a little over four minutes. It was a Hail Mary, but Sarah had survived missions with worse odds. This seemed like a stroll in the park.

She slinked past the counter and reached the computer that the woman had been typing on. She typed in Chuck's name when a terrifying thought hit her. _What if they don't have his phone number listed?_ If that was the case, she would have to go back to Chuck and wait for him to wake up before she could ask him. She had yet to see if he even had a mobile phone as all his clothes and belongings seemed to have mysteriously disappeared.

The search came back with a hit and she opened the result, her eyes devouring his file. She skimmed over his personal details until she found a contact number. _Gotcha!_ She glanced over the number, before returning the computer back to its original state. She crept out from behind the counter in a crouched position, before straightening herself and walking outside into the cold Washington air with its watery sun.

* * *

><p><strong>Front entrance, Washington Hospital Center<br>Wednesday, December 15****th****, 2004  
>11:09<strong>

Remembering the number was easy enough. Actually getting the courage to press call was another matter. _This is ridiculous. _She had faced down the worst of the worst and yet something as simple as calling a relative terrified her. It had been an interesting two days for Sarah Walker, full of new discoveries pertaining to her own life. Most of them, Sarah would've rather not known.

She took a breath to calm her nerves and dialed. She put the phone against her ear and waited. She felt her heart pound and in that instant knew that this was the last time that Sarah herself would be responsible for delivering bad news.

"Hello?" a sleepy feminine voice asked.

"Uh, hello. Am I speaking with Ellie Bartowski?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"You're speaking to Sarah Walker. I'm calling about your brother, Chuck."

"Chuck? But he's in D.C."

"Yes, that's sort of why I'm calling."

"Did something happen to him? Is he okay?" The sleep-filled voice had dissipated and was replaced with an iron tone laced with despair.

"Actually… no." _Better to rip the bandage off in one fell tug._ "He's been stabbed."

"Oh my… oh my God…" she heard the woman on the other line say, gasping for air. "Is he… is he…?"

"No, no… he's alive. I was there when it happened, and I managed to hold him stable long enough so that the paramedics could save him."

"Oh thank God," she heard Ellie say, before a choked sob escaped her throat.

"I think it's best if you come to Washington as soon as possible. I'm not quite sure how long he'll be in the hospital but it's probably for the best if you come down anyway."

"Oh… oh God, of course. We'll be on our way. Is there some way we can get in touch with you again?"

Sarah rattled off her phone number and promised Ellie that she would pick them up from the airport before closing the connection. She pocketed her phone and turned around before it went off again. The scowling face of Director Graham peered back at her.

"Walker, secure."

"Graham, secure. Congratulations, Agent Walker. We have a new mission for you. We'll be sending you to Poland. It promises to be a long one. Please be at my office at 20:00 tonight, so we can sort out the mission details."

Sarah smiled. She had made a promise to herself. The moment Graham would call, she would leave. That's what she said… no, that's what she made herself promise. She looked back at the hospital as it loomed over her and for the first time in her life, Sarah felt reluctance when it came to accepting orders. "Actually Sir, I'd like to take some time off. I'm sure that I have plenty of free days left."

"That's… correct, Agent Walker. You have over three months of vacation days. I suppose we could find another agent. How much would you like to take?"

"I'll let you know, Sir," she replied with her professional tone.

"Sarah," Graham started and he adopted the fatherly tone that he had so often used on her. "Is something the matter? This is the first time that you don't want to go on a mission."

"Yes Sir, everything's fine," she answered. "I just have some… personal stuff to deal with."

"Anything the Agency can help with? We need you in tip-top shape Agent Walker."

"I'll be fine," she promised. "I just… have to do this… for myself." She knew that Graham wanted to ask more details but the man seemed to be able to hold his tongue. He broke the silence with a sigh.

"Very well, Agent Walker. You know how to contact us if you want to return from your absence. But Sarah… be safe."

"Don't worry, Sir. I'll be fine." She disconnected the call and for the second time she dropped the phone in her pocket. Grinning she shook her head. _Huh, made a promise to yourself and broke it within the hour. That's a new record, Walker. _Somehow, she couldn't find it in herself to care very much about her broken promise. She turned around and walked back into the hospital with a smile on her face.

A real one.

* * *

><p><strong>AN2: **Thank you for reading. Please do leave a review, for reasons stated in my first A/N. I contemplated leaving this on a cliffhanger, but because I wasn't sure when I would be able to return to this tale, I figured I'd give it a decent place to stop for once. Once more, thank you for reading and a review goes a long way. Does it make me pathetic that I beg? Perhaps, but it's worth it. See you soon.

**PS: **BUABS is shaping up to be a whopper of a chapter. Well within the 20000 words is the current estimate. It'll be epic... or so we hope. Until next time.


	4. The Communicating

**A/N: **First off, let me just say sorry for the time it has taken me to post this. Life caught up so that's why this chapter took a week longer to make. I don't know whether or not I can adhere to the weekly posting schedule but I'll try my hardest.

Once again, a huge amount of gratitude to everyone who reviews this story or puts it on their alert. Every time I get a new message in my inbox, I grin like a fool. And it's totally worth it. So thank you.

I found that this story bears similarities to Chuck Versus the Decision. Not a lot mind you, but enough that some people may think that I'm plagiarizing the story. Please know that I did not read said story until 21 November 2011. Any similarities are purely by coincidence.

Once more a massive thank you to **ShinyJayne19** for listening to me when I bitch and moan about stuff (not necessarily about Chuck) and helping me out with plot points and my generally awesome sense of insecurity. You rock, you truly do. She also updated Redeeming Intentions just now, so go read that. I'll wait… No, really I will. Done? Alright, great, let's get this show on the road.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything. There was a point in time where I thought that it would be better if I did because the show was in shambles. But they redeemed themselves with some amazing episodes lately. So now, I'm happy I don't own anything.

* * *

><p><strong>The Good Samaritan, Chapter 4<br>The Communicating**

* * *

><p><strong>Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center<br>Wednesday, December 15****th****, 2004  
>11:24<strong>

The promise that she had made herself and the consequent rejection to a new mission was forgotten as she looked at him lying in his bed. His face was smoothed out, no creases to indicate the pain that he must've been in. She had been stitched up a couple of times, so she could somewhat relate. But she had never actually had a stab wound that wasn't superficial. She almost winced as she imagined how he must've felt. But all that was in the somewhat-distant past now. He had gotten the care that he needed and as the doctor had told her, all that was needed now was for Chuck to find some emotional comfort. So far, she seemed to be doing a good job, but if Sarah was honest, she knew for a fact that he wouldn't truly be emotionally at rest until he got to see his family.

She sat on the bed and decided to take stock of the situation. She had effectively blown off her job to take care of someone who, despite the brief talks she had had, was still a stranger. A stranger who made her impulsive. Reckless. A stranger who made Samantha come out of her shell and made sure that the Sarah Walker character was stored up safely. She wasn't sure what was more terrifying. Thinking you were going to die or getting reacquainted with a personality you thought you would never see again. Sarah decided that so far, it was a tie.

She glanced around the room and spotted the duffel bag, unceremoniously dumped in the corner next to the bed. She glanced in the bag and found a few of the magazines that she had picked up. Normally she wasn't one for reading, except if it was her new mission objectives. But seeing as how she had, due to her own insistence, found herself without a mission in the foreseeable future she figured that she had nothing to lose. She picked up a gossip magazine and started leafing through it.

* * *

><p><strong>Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center<br>Wednesday, December 15****th****, 2004  
>11:40<strong>

Sarah groaned and looked at her watch. She had wasted fourteen minutes with reading and already she was bored. She couldn't believe people actually bought these magazines. A part of her wondered if Chuck would read these kinds of magazines. She dismissed it almost immediately. _Surely the man has more substance than that… right?_ She couldn't help but wonder what went on behind his eyes. What kind of a man he truly was. She found herself slowly twiddling her thumbs before reaching for the gaming magazine. She stopped halfway through and realized one very important thing. She was bored. The anxiety had worn off and Chuck was asleep so she was alone with her thoughts again. And no one liked a brooding Sarah Walker. That was for sure. She once again eyed her duffel bag and a plan began to form in her mind. It wasn't so much a plan as it was a chance for her to pick up her normal routine, but she decided to go ahead with it anyway. She grabbed the note pad that had been left on top of the desk and wrote her address, cell phone number and the address of where she would be down on the paper. She grinned when she realized that this was the first time she had willingly given her phone number who wasn't in any way connected to her job. Life did indeed work in mysterious ways. Not even Paul knew how to reach her. She'd always come to him.

Her decision made, she placed the card with her details on the little desk in the same way she had placed the get well card and got up, slinging the duffel bag over her shoulder and heading out. It was time to release some of her stress, the only way she knew how.

* * *

><p><strong>24 Hour Fitness<br>Wednesday, December 15****th****, 2004  
>12:35<strong>

She was panting but it didn't deter her in her efforts. She pushed on, not content until every last shred of stress was handled with and she could return, tired but revitalized all the same. Still, that was also the main issue at hand. Her thoughts kept straying. She didn't get the same fulfillment from the slapping of soles on the treadmill. She didn't get the feeling of accomplishment every time she cranked out ten miles. So she pushed on. It was around the fifteen mile mark that Paul came up.

"Are you about to go into hibernation or something?"

"Huh?" she gasped. "What are you talking about?"

"The way you're running, it seems like you're saving up enough miles to pass the winter. So will we be seeing you back in the spring again?"

Sarah laughed but it came out raggedly. She slowly eased her pace back to a walking one. Stopping instantly would have detrimental effects on her muscles and that was the one thing she couldn't afford. _What if Graham… called…?_ She belatedly realized that until further notice, Graham would not be calling. And it was all due to that damn room in the hospital.

Her Agent mode, which she lovingly referred to as Agent Walker whereas her own self was just Sarah, screamed at her to cut ties and go back to the Agency. Back where she belonged. She often listened to her Agent side. It had kept her alive during the somewhat hectic missions that she had been on with the CAT squad. She loved Carina dearly, like a sister even, but the woman could not, not cause trouble. Amy on the other hand was just content to sit around and look happy. Zondra… well, things were better left unsaid on that front.

She sighed when she responded. "No, just a bit more stress than usual." She gave him a small smile hoping it would be enough to please him.

No dice.

"What happened? Your TV blew up?" he teased her.

"Something like that," she responded with a weak chuckle. "A… uh… a friend is in the hospital so I've been visiting him." She neglected to mention that said friend had been in her life for a grand total of not quite twenty-four hours.

"Ah, that's bad news. Is he okay?"

"I guess. I'm not much of an expert when it comes to stabbings so I wouldn't really know."

Paul gasped. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Sarah shrugged. "He survived so that's more than I could've hoped for."

"Well, give him my best wishes. I'll leave you to it." He stepped back to behind the counter and Sarah could only be grateful that he didn't prod further. Paul had an uncanny knack of knowing when it was time to retreat.

Sarah blew out a sigh and tentatively stepped off the treadmill. Her legs were somewhat wobbly and she actually stumbled for a second but she managed to regain her equilibrium fast enough. She glanced over to the mats that were propped up against the mirrors and decided that it would be best to do some calisthenics. She walked over and rolled out a mat, positioning herself on it. As she had done the day before, she focused on the beat of the music and started her sit ups. But instead of her mind being blank, thoughts kept going through her head. _You said you'd be there. Why are you here?_ She willed the voice, which had been one she hadn't heard in a while, to be quiet. But instead of providing a relaxing atmosphere, the generic pop song proved to be the proverbial nails over chalkboard.

She sat up and released the grip on her head. She blew out a heavy sigh and chided herself for not being able to complete even the simplest of tasks. Chastising was a form that was most popularly used by United States drill sergeants to motivate and teach cadets. They had nothing on the instructors the CIA found. Sarah was pretty sure that these instructors were people who were kicked out of the army for being too much of an asshole.

Still, despite all the verbal and sometimes physical abuse they had hurled towards her, she had come out stronger. _That whatever doesn't kill you, simply makes you stronger_, had been the mantra that had been put on an infinite loop throughout her mind. And it was true, or at least she thought it was. Until she came face to face with the one thing they had never taught her and life had always withheld from her. A tangible, real connection to another human being. There were no protocols to be followed. The only thing that had been ever said with regards to connections was something along the lines of 'Don't do it. They tend to die on you,' and Sarah had had enough abandonment to last her a lifetime. So connections were definitely out. At least, so she thought.

She briefly contemplated continuing her set but she knew it would be a futile attempt. So she got up and rolled her mat up, placing it back where she had found it. A vital part to being both a conman and a spy was to never draw attention to yourself if you didn't want it to. And she definitely didn't want to be noticed now, so leaving her stuff in the correct places seemed like the smart thing to do.

Of course, not being noticed was always easier in a crowd as opposed to a gym where the predominant hormone running rampant was testosterone. Sarah did make the concession of wearing a t-shirt instead of a sports bra. However, CIA protocol dictated fast reaction time so most of her t-shirts were of the tight variety. But she did manage to find one that, while still clinging to the obvious parts, was not _as_ revealing as the others were. And it was dark purple, so any perspiration on her part wouldn't lead to an impromptu wet t-shirt contest. Somehow, she had the feeling that it wouldn't help with keeping men from hitting on her. She didn't need CIA training to figure that one out.

As much as her workout had left her fatigued, it didn't take away the growing sense of uneasiness that had been bubbling to the surface ever since she had left the hospital. It wasn't so much a feeling of uneasiness, more like she was betraying someone. If she had to label it, it would probably end up being called guilt. But that was insanity. What did she have to be guilty for? She hadn't felt guilty ever since… actually, she couldn't remember the last time she felt guilty. Not even her Red test made her feel guilty. It made her terrified and angry, sure. But guilty? That was not the emotion that had registered on her spectrum. But there it was; she felt guilty. Not because she left him alone but because of the fact that she had made him a promise and she was putting her own needs in front of his. It hit her like a sledgehammer when she realized that she actually _wanted_ to take care of him. It was like he triggered some long dormant maternal instinct within Sarah that she didn't knew even existed, much less could take up such a prevalent position within her usual thought processes.

She glanced at the heavy bag, idly swinging after one of the patrons had just vacated it, simply asking for Sarah to unleash her frustrations on the bag. She didn't want to flaunt her extensive knowledge of just about every form of martial arts that the far East had ever devised, figuring that an accountant shouldn't have that particular knowledge. But there was something oddly cathartic about being able to project anger on an inanimate object and being able to beat the stuffing out of it. She figured she would try some kickboxing, obviously not with the crispness that her five years of experience gave her but with enough style and class to show people that she knew what she was doing. If people asked she could just say she took self defense classes. A woman who looked like her would definitely need that in a city like Washington. Of course there were quite a few robbers who had already been on the unfortunate end of Sarah Walker in self defense mode. Quite a few had decided that maybe it wasn't in their best interest to keep trying to rob people.

She walked over and found some gloves lying around the bag. She strapped them on and gave a couple of test jabs, before landing a satisfying smack with a sudden leg movement. The bag began to swing erratically as Sarah continued her routine, trying to project her demons and insecurities on the bag. It had always helped soothing her, allowed her to get her thoughts in order and provide her with a clear solution to any problems she had been facing.

Today, none of it helped.

Dejected, she let the bag swing its course, no longer forcing it backwards through a flurry of her kicks and punches. She tore at the Velcro and slid the gloves off, before unceremoniously tossing them back where she found them. Dejectedly and still irked about the fact that she couldn't get a lid on her damn emotions she walked to the dressing room. She dressed quickly, choosing to forsake taking a shower. Maybe Chuck would be so repulsed by her smell that he'd send her away. It wouldn't do anything to quell her emotions but at least she'd have a legitimate excuse to take some time to herself and find her baseline.

Sighing, she stood up and slung the duffle bag over her shoulder, managing a half-hearted wave towards Paul.

* * *

><p><strong>Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center<br>Wednesday, December 15****th****, 2004  
>14:10<strong>

Sarah rushed to the bedside and snatched the note from the desk before folding it up and sticking it in the pocket of her pants. There was no need for him to read it. After all, she had promised him she would be here when he woke up. Sarah glanced at her watch. _He's taking his time._

Almost on cue Chuck began to stir. She saw his nose twitch. At least that part of her plan would work out accordingly. He slowly opened his eyes and looked at Sarah. "Good afternoon, sleepy," she playfully chided him.

"Wha… what time is it?" he asked her groggily. His eyes were half lidded but his eyes weren't glazed over. She figured he must still be under the influence of morphine, but not enough to cloud his judgment or his speech. He was fairly lucid.

"Ten past two in the afternoon."

Chuck groaned, before sniffing again. "Did you get a new perfume when I was asleep? Because it smells amazing in here."

Sarah wanted to bang her head against the cupboard. _Of course_ he wasn't repulsed by her smell. He seemed to bask in it. Was it really too much to ask for _one _of her plans to work out? Apparently, following plans didn't seem to be in the repertoire of Chuck Bartowski. She sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Gods for him not being an asset she had to protect. She could only imagine the amount of danger that he would get himself in. Something as crazy as dangling off of rooftops would probably become a common occurrence for him. "Um, no… this is actually me after a working out."

Chuck's face flushed scarlet and a gurgled noise escaped from the back of his throat. "Oh God, I'm sorry for what I just said."

"Don't be," Sarah shrugged. "It was kind of sweet in a really weird way."

"If my sister asks if I made a fool out of myself, please tell her that I was still under the influence of morphine when this went down. I don't think I could live it down if she found out what just happened."

"My lips are sealed," she promised him. "Oh, by the way. I managed to get in touch with your sister. She's obviously worried sick but she's on her way. She'll text me the details of her flight and I'll go pick her up."

Chuck was silent for a long moment. Oh, he tried to speak a few times, but nothing would come out. Finally, he managed to ask, "How sure were you that you're not an angel, again?"

"It's the least I could do, what with you being here all by your lonesome. Everyone needs someone to help them out at certain points in their life. Why would it be any different for you?" Still, she felt like a hypocrite, handing out sage wisdom like that while failing to take note of it herself. If there was one thing known in the spy community, it was that Graham's prodigy did _not_ want any help.

"Still," he started. "I want to thank you for the amazing care you've provided for me. You didn't have to do any of it, but I'm really glad that it was you that I ran into on those streets."

"That sounds like a dismissal. Are you dismissing me, Chuck?" she asked in a playful tone.

Chuck's eyes widened. "Oh God no! No, I wouldn't dare. I love having you around; at least I won't become bored out of my mind. But that's not to… if you want to leave you can leave," he finished, doing a fairly decent job of keeping the desperation out of his voice, but his eyes betrayed him.

Sarah smiled. "I'm good, actually."

"So, what do you want to do?" he asked her.

"You're the one in a hospital bed, it's your call."

"Well, you're in a hospital bed too. You may not be sick but you're sleeping there anyway," he countered. "Plus, the least I could do is let you have fun while you're here; after all you're giving up your time for me. It'd be rude not to try and let you have some good old, decent fun."

Sarah shrugged. "How about a game?" Chuck's eyes brightened and at that moment, Sarah knew that she was in for a special afternoon.

They ended up playing 'Guess Who?' At Chuck's insistence, Sarah got the Star Wars edition, whatever the hell Star Wars was. They managed to play the game and keep each other entertained for six hours straight. As Sarah laid herself down on the bed, she honestly couldn't remember ever having as much fun as she had today, playing a silly game with Chuck Bartowski and talking about whatever she wanted to talk about. Granted, most of the talking came from his side and he had her in stitches when he told her about the antics of his best friend and his co-workers, but that was okay. Sarah was never really good with words anyway and Chuck seemed like he could talk enough for the both of them. With a contented sigh and a small smile, she closed her eyes and snuggled into the comforter. Her phone buzzed and reluctantly she opened her eyes to look at it. Ellie had texted her, her time of arrival. She set the alarm of her phone to notify her when she would have to leave the hospital and once again closed her eyes. The soft beeping of the ECG proved to be an effective lullaby and before she knew it, she was dreaming. Her dreams once again took her to that fateful night in Paris.

* * *

><p><strong>Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center<br>Thursday, December 16****th****, 2004  
>08:12<strong>

The dead woman gazed into her eyes and Sarah flinched. The woman opened her mouth and spoke to her. That had never happened before. "Sarah," she softly murmured. It sounded like the woman was calling her name from the insides of a submarine. "Sarah, are you okay?"

She jolted awake, her rapid breath slowly ebbing away. The cobblestone streets slowly receded back into her mind and the gray that had dominated the streets of the city was replaced by the stark white of the hospital room. The sirens of the police were substituted with the ever present beeping of the ECG. She looked around the room in a panicky fashion and her eyes fell on Chuck who was eyeing her with uncertainty from his pillow. "Are you okay?" he repeated his question.

"Yeah… yeah I'm fine."

"Really? Because you were moaning and breathing really heavy and… oh…" he awkwardly trailed off, before blushing. "Forget I said anything."

It dawned on Sarah what Chuck thought was going on and for a second she decided to just let him believe that she had in fact been dreaming just that. But that would make the rest of her stay _really_ awkward and if anything, she really enjoyed the day before. Despite the fact that he was still in some pain and he wasn't allowed to walk yet, he had improved to a somewhat healthy skin color and he seemed to be able to string his sentences together without trailing off awkwardly. So letting him believe what he thought was happening, was out of the question. "It wasn't that. I had a nightmare,"

His eyes did a funny dance. They went from relief to distressed, all in the space of a second. Anyone less than Sarah would've missed it. She pondered why his eyes would display those emotions but before she could, Chuck once again disturbed the silence. "Do you… want to talk about it? Ellie tells me I'm a great listener."

Sarah didn't deal too well with talking about herself. She was a woman of action. But since there were no terrorists to beat up or fleeing scumbags to shoot she was stuck in a pickle. Luckily, deflection had always been something that Sarah was good in. "Don't worry about it, but hey speaking of which, Ellie is flying in today. You'll get to see her again." Then she added, "I pulled some strings, they were taking too long with getting in touch with her according to me."

"Oh my God!" Chuck exclaimed. "Really? Oh, I'd hug you if I could, but since I'm sort of tied up at the moment, I'll owe you one." His face clearly showed his anticipation and it made Sarah's heart flutter to think that she had been paramount in making him feel better. And if she was completely honest with herself, that hug didn't sound half bad. It had been a while since she had been given a hug.

But just as fast, Chuck's happiness disappeared and he looked at her with piercing brown eyes, which radiated warmth and kindness. "But seriously Sarah, tell me about the dream. I may not be Freud, but I can at least provide an ear."

Sarah sighed. Chuck may not have known it himself but he could be awfully persuasive if he wanted to. She relented, obviously giving him an edited version. "Basically, my superiors handed me the numbers of a corporation that they wanted me to check. I spotted some irregularities and reported them to my boss who told me to disregard them and give the company the all clear. If I had reported the numbers I would've been fired, but the whole thing still irked me. Eventually I decided to throw caution in the wind and not report them. I sent the numbers back to the company and simply forgot about it.

Later I heard that the company had presented the numbers at the annual conference. Someone else spotted the irregularities and called them out on it. It turned out that the CEO had been a large scale embezzler. He had been using profits from the company to fund his private account. The CEO got fired and as a result, the board of directors got disbanded. Their stock plummeted and the company went bankrupt. My name was left out of the initial investigation so they never tied me to the whole ordeal. And I'm glad that they did end up finding out and arrested the CEO. But at the same time, I felt terrible for all the employees who were innocent and didn't know anything until they were told that they were all let go. Every time I go to bed I can't help but see all those people gaze up at me in silent wonder and I keep asking myself, 'Is there something I could've done differently?'"

As soon as she stopped talking, Sarah couldn't help but be amazed at how open she had been. Sure, everything she had told him was a lie. There was no CEO who was embezzling. There was a woman who bled out on the streets of Paris, sure. But the emotions she felt; the guilt that had been lodged in her like a bullet, those were all real. She had never told anyone about it before but it felt natural to tell him. She looked him in the eyes and all she saw was his undivided attention and his utter and complete feeling of empathy for her situation. Not a hint of judgment.

"Why didn't you report it?" he tentatively asked, not knowing whether he was overstepping his bounds.

"Because I love my job and it's important to me." She wisely left out that it was pretty much the only thing she had left in her life. It didn't do for Chuck to know that.

"Okay," he nodded.

_Okay? He's not going to ask why I didn't just look for a new firm? _It once again struck Sarah how easy Chuck was with accepting and trusting other people. He had trusted her completely; hell he even asked her if she could be there for him. Sure she had saved him, but they didn't even know each other. She had just been a Good Samaritan. That was all. Sarah couldn't help but think back to her own world, the one built on lies and deceit. She knew that Chuck would never fare in the world of muddled morals and questionable actions, the world in which it was easy to profess your undying love for someone, only to shoot him in the head a day later.

He continued in a soft voice. "You shouldn't feel guilty for what you did, Sarah. I won't claim to know what makes you tick, but you were put between a rock and a hard place. And if your job really means that much to you then you did the right thing. And hey, besides, at the end of the day, the bad guys got caught, right? So that means that they can't do much more harm. It's good that you feel guilty over it, that's what makes us human. But it shouldn't eat you alive; no one should have nightmares of the magnitude that you're having."

Unknowingly, Chuck had touched upon the one point that Sarah had continuously used as a mantra to keep herself somewhat sane. While in her created version she didn't take any affirmative action, she had in the real world. And it meant that the traitor couldn't do any more harm. Couldn't sell secrets to the highest bidder anymore or whatever she had done to get picked up by the CIA radars.

"I know," she started, but he gently cut her off.

"I don't think you do. Because if you did, you wouldn't beat yourself up over it. Okay, so you made the wrong choice, but at the end of the day, you're not in prison and the bad guys got caught. If anything, all this is on your boss. He should've never ordered you to keep it under wraps. You did what you had to do to attain the things that you wanted and despite the consequences. You shouldn't feel guilty. Okay, so maybe the way things turned out weren't the greatest but that's life. You win some, you lose some. If anything, I'm the poster child for that."

Sarah smiled at the encouraging words. "I wish I could believe that."

"Hey, I'll have you know that I had a girlfriend and was close to graduating from Stanford. That is, until my best friend accused me of cheating and then slept with my girlfriend. As I said, you win some, you lose some."

Sarah's mouth fell open. Who would ever want to harm Chuck? Especially someone he considered his best friend. The world made just a little less sense. Of course, the world already stopped making sense the moment that her dad gathered her up and put her in the car, never to see her childhood home ever again. This was just a nice accompaniment.

"Yeah, I know what you're thinking. How could _I_ ever get a girlfriend? Don't worry, I get that a lot." He smiled in her direction and she was sure that the light in the room intensified for a split second.

"Uh…" she managed to say. "That wasn't at all what I was thinking."

Chuck shrugged, but before he could say anything, Sarah's phone buzzed. Her alarm indicated that it was time to go pick up Ellie from the airport. She looked at Chuck apologetically but he shrugged. "Go pick up my sister," he said in a teasing tone.

Sarah nodded, stood up and walked out of the door. She stopped in the doorway though and without turning, said, "Thank you… Chuck."

"You're welcome," he replied. His tone still carried that gentleness that he had employed ever since that morning. Sarah walked out of the room.

As she hailed a cab to get her back to her apartment to pick up the Porsche, she couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, talking to a shrink would be a good idea. Then again, being around Chuck had also lifted her spirits, so maybe she would just have to spend some more time with him.

As was the usual for her, she sunk back into the seats and watched the apartments roll by, sighing. There had always been something inherently relaxing about driving, even if she didn't actually do the driving. It helped her clear her head and for the first time in quite some time, her thoughts weren't muddled with images of Paris. Her conscience had decided to give her a break and Sarah couldn't help but think it was due to Chuck.

Yep, she'd have to definitely spend some more time with him. And that was an order.

* * *

><p><strong>AN2: **Sorry, still no Ellie this chapter. I had wholly planned on including her, but if I did, this chapter would grow to gargantuan lengths and I kind of liked keeping my word count similar. Therefore, this will all happen in Chapter 5 (or chapter 4b if you will). While there will still be some introspection, it won't feature as much seeing as how everyone is mostly awake at the same time from now on. So expect a lot more dialogue to appear.


	5. The Reuniting

**A/N: **Winter-blues got to me in a rather nasty way, so I didn't particularly feel like writing for a while. Understandable… right? Right? Anyway, after that, real life kicked me in the face so that stacked up yet another few weeks where I couldn't write. Luckily, I managed to scrape the words together during the free time I had. So let's get this show on the road.

I want to thank my tireless beta, **ShinyJayne20** for her continued efforts in keeping me somewhat sane and grounded. This chapter isn't beta'd by her, so any mistakes are my own! More thanks go out to people who favorite and review this story. Please continue doing so. It makes writing all the more fun.

Before I forget, please remember that in this story, canon is still three years away. Sarah appears more open because well… she's younger and she hasn't yet grown completely desensitized by the spy world. And even with those extra three years in canon, Chuck managed to smash through her walls in twenty four hours.

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Chuck Bartowski nor do I own Sarah Walker. Although I have a feeling that if I did own them, they wouldn't listen to my commands anyway. Not even Beckman could get them to listen and she's a hell of a lot scarier than I am, so my chances don't look great.

* * *

><p><strong>The Good Samaritan, Chapter 5<br>The Reuniting**

* * *

><p><strong>Arrival hall, Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport<br>Thursday, December 16****th****, 2004  
>15:20<strong>

Sarah held a frilly piece of carton up with Ellie Bartowski's name scribbled on it. She wondered what kind of a person Ellie would be. Somehow, Sarah figured that she wouldn't be that different to Chuck. The thought of him caused her to silently ponder the past couple of days. A nagging voice in the back of her head told her that she was falling in too deep. She should cut all ties and do the job that she had been put on this earth for.

A larger part of her brain brutally willed the voice into submission before locking it in a cage and throwing away the key.

Compartmentalizing had always been one of Sarah's strong suits. It helped her get through the lonely nights. The nightmares were a different story, but Sarah found that if she tried hard, she could forget them too, for the time being. Of course, it didn't help that Chuck seemed to circumvent all of her barriers and get her to admit to things that were better left unspoken for. She had no intention of talking about her nightmare but he made her open up… want to open up. It was dangerous, exhilarating, scary and freeing all at the same time. She had been shot at by more people than she cared to count, sharp objects had been flung her way with frightening precision and terrorists had been fixated by her body, their minds completely blank, save for the blonde bombshell in front of them. She had them completely wrapped around her finger. And yet, it was when she talked to Chuck, letting go of the self imposed boundaries, that Sarah Walker felt most alive.

Chuck Bartowski with his smiles and his quips validated her existence.

But the confrontations with him so far had taught her one thing. She had always told herself that if she kept repeating the lie, she would eventually start believing it. And she had chanted to herself, time and again, that she had no blame in the death of her target in Paris. That the order had been justified by the CIA and that it would be reason enough. She had no reason to feel guilty and she didn't feel guilty and she had no guilt to work through.

And yet, she felt guilty.

It had helped somewhat by relaying her fears to Chuck and he had in fact managed to cheer her up… make her feel better. So the diagnosis stuck. A dose of Chuck Bartowski, apply when needed. She would have to figure out dosages later. Now it was time to give the man some quality time with his family.

She couldn't help but watch the mass of people standing around her, brimming with excitement over seeing their loved ones return. Along with it brought a pang of sadness. She remembered the times when she had returned after a long mission and she stepped out of the arrival hall, her suitcase in tow. Her eyes would roam over the crowd and she could just imagine that somewhere in the cluster of bodies someone would be standing there, happy to see _her_.

There never was.

She shook herself from the thoughts, not having any interest in revisiting the somber moods that would often accompany the thought of being alone. _God, either I need a mission or I need Chuck. Whatever comes first._

Sarah did _not_ wait very well.

Of course, it was around that time that she realized that she wouldn't get a new mission any time soon. Her little stunt outside of the hospital the other day had seen to that. So that's how Sarah found herself passing the time by watching the slew of people emerging from the baggage claims, holding a frilly piece of carton. How the mighty had fallen.

Her eyes scanned the crowd, instinctively filing away faces along with the quirks and habits that went along with them, as the people brushed past her; not giving her the time of day. Her eyes strayed over a pretty brunette with beautiful eyes. They were however, filled with worry. She saw the woman scanning the crowd, before locking eyes with Sarah. Her gaze strayed downward and recognition flickered in her features. She walked over and Sarah knew. This was the illustrious Ellie Bartowski.

She tried to open her mouth, but before she could, the woman barreled into her midsection and clung to her. She felt the wetness of tears dropping on the fabric of her shirt, slowly soaking the material. Awkwardly, she started patting the woman on her back, not really that great with consoling grieving women. Idly, she wondered if it was really grieving if the person they were grieving about was alive but decided that she didn't really care either way. A loud sob emanated from the brunette and Sarah looked positively panicked.

It got worse when a bearded man joined in the fun. He too started wailing, although his cries were a little more pronounced. While Ellie had yet to say anything, the bearded man kept repeating how grateful he was for saving his 'life-mate'. By the way he reverently spoke about Chuck, she figured this was the 'Morgan' he was so fond of.

The party was complete when a tall, broad shouldered blond man exclaimed, "Group hug, awesome!" and hugged her as well.

"Help," she squeaked as she was enveloped by three people, two of which were leaking bodily fluids on her. Silently she was cursing. She wore her nice clothes today. Now they could get a one way trip to the washer.

The little yelp seemed to pull Ellie out of her daze and she shooed the impromptu group hug away from Sarah. When everyone was a safe distance away, her arms once again flew toward her neck and Sarah found herself being pulled into the mother of all bear hugs. She collided with Ellie at a pace that was fast enough to knock the wind out of her, but the 'oof' that emanated from her throat didn't deter the woman in her effort to literally hug Sarah to death.

"Thank you," she heard Ellie whisper. "Thank you for saving him."

"You're… welcome?" she awkwardly replied, not really sure what the proper etiquette was for being thanked. The CIA had always taken the cloak in cloak-and-dagger to heart and Sarah couldn't remember a time when she had been thanked for her services. As a matter of fact, she couldn't quite remember _ever_ being thanked for everything… unless you counted a paycheck as a thank you.

Ellie stepped back from Sarah and her eyes shone with gratitude and unshed tears. Those eyes displayed the same honest emotions that Chuck's had. It was interesting to see how open and vulnerable these people were, simply by their eyes. Ellie wiped away the brimming tears with the back of her hand and sniffled a bit. "Sorry about that. Usually I have a lot more self control when it comes to these kinds of things."

"Don't mention it." She looked at the group in front of her. "So uh… this is a lot more than I was expecting."

"That's my fault," Ellie shrugged apologetically. "Devon was planned, sorry about not telling you that. But this one…" She pointed to Morgan with a vaguely horrified expression, "wasn't." She trailed off, muttering something about how the little rat could be quite eloquent when he wanted to be.

Morgan hadn't moved an inch since being shoved back and his eyes were glazed over. Devon, the blond haired jock, gave him a light shove which seemed to snap him out of his daze. He moved over and grabbed Sarah's hand, before kneeling before her. "What is he doing?" she whispered to Ellie.

"Morgan!" Ellie shouted in a voice that didn't fit the gentle frame that had been on display.

"What? Can't I greet an angel in proper fashion?" Sarah snickered softly as she was reminded of Chuck's words just a few days earlier.

"You're embarrassing her. Get up." She grabbed Morgan's earlobe and hauled him along with the bag away from Sarah who was left with a somewhat dumbfounded expression. Devon walked up to her and held up his two hands.

"Saved my GF's baby bro's life! That's awesome."

"Uh…" Sarah said, somewhat confused by the jock and his phrasing. Still, she got the gist of what he wanted to happen and meekly returned the high five that the man was obviously craving. Luckily, she was let off the hook as he grabbed his bag and frog marched after Ellie who had obviously taken control of the situation.

She caught up with them in front of the terminal and looked apologetically. "Uh, I only have a two-seater, so I think it's best if we order a cab. And since I'm guessing that you'd like to stay with Devon…"

"Say no more," Ellie replied, already whistling over a cab. She was clearly an assertive woman; that was for sure. "Where should we head him?"

"Uh, he's lying in Washington Hospital Center, but don't you…" She was cut off as Ellie relayed the hospital to the driver, who nodded. "Shouldn't I at least pay for the fare?"

Ellie looked at her like she had grown a second head. "You saved my baby brother. You've done more than enough." She nodded to the driver who took off, leaving Sarah and Morgan in their wake.

"So uh… We didn't get a proper introduction. Hi, I'm Morgan Grimes."

"Chuck's best friend, I know."

Morgan beamed. "He talked about me?"

Sarah sighed, while drawing a hand through her hair. She didn't exactly have the time to make it look like normal and she was sure that strands were sticking out, giving her a rumpled look. Still, looking rumpled so far was higher on her list than spending time with Morgan Grimes, if Chuck's stories were any indication. "Yeah, he did." She knew way more about Morgan than she wanted to. "Let's go," she said as she took his bag and slung it over her shoulder, walking over to the parking section with Morgan on her heels.

**Downtown Washington  
>Thursday, December 16<strong>**th****, 2004  
>15:51<strong>

Sarah Walker was not a person who liked to listen to the radio.

Morgan Grimes however, was.

It had started roughly five minutes after leaving the airport. Morgan, after complimenting her car, had suddenly gone completely mute and started fiddling with his thumbs. "Is everything okay?" she asked as he made yet another vague gesture, moving his hand in the general direction of the dashboard, only to immediately pull it back like it was on fire.

"Yeah… I'm good," he replied. "Would you… would you mind if we listened to the radio?"

"Actually, I like the radio off while I drive." The moment the words had left her lips, she wanted to smack herself. Why couldn't she just let him listen? Now she could either totally ignore the bearded man which would reflect rather poorly on her, or she would have to engage in actual conversation with him. Something which, given the stories that she had been told, would be a gargantuan task to complete.

Sarah wasn't too big on actual small talk, except if it was for a mission. Seeing as how that was not the case, the words seemed to slip past her. She could think up an amazing lie on the spot, neatly interwoven with reality, which would have bad guys eating out of the palm of her hand. Now… silence.

How the hell did Chuck make it look so easy?

"So… Morgan. What hobbies do you have?" It was a Hail Mary and she knew it, but if she kept him talking then she wouldn't have to. Besides, what was she going to talk about? The latest happenings in the world of espionage? Or maybe the ominous signs of an economic collapse in the near future? It was better for Morgan to do the talking and for Sarah to be silent. She was good at that.

Morgan looked pensive, a hand stroking through his beard as he thought of a suitable reply. Finally, he responded, "Video games."

_Oh God._ "Really, and what video games would that be?"

The question spurred Morgan on a ten minute tangent about Spartans, the Covenant, someone named Cortana, a Master Chief and halos. She had no clue what any of those words meant in coherence to one another, but she was glad that at least the silence was filled, even though she had tuned most of it out. She would ask Chuck what the gibberish meant later.

Belatedly, she realized that the silence had once again returned, save for the engine that was humming below her. When she glanced over, she saw Morgan looking at her with big eyes, trying to spur her on. Little did he know that the big pleading eyes didn't work for anyone that had tried them on her. _Save Chuck of course._ She willed the voice to be quiet, something which she had found herself doing repeatedly the past few days.

When it became obvious that Sarah wasn't going to budge, Morgan decided to go on the verbal offense. "So what is it that you do? Despite saving my best friend's life, of course."

She almost rolled her eyes. It was no big deal, but apparently it was to these people. She knew that Chuck was special, knew it from the moment she had laid eyes on him. But apparently, other people thought so as well. Still, she had no desire to be rude, so she presented him with the usual cover story. "I work in accounting."

"Really?" he said, his eyebrows climbing towards his forehead. "I didn't think women would make good accountants."

"What can I say," Sarah shrugged. "I'm good with numbers." She had already devised sixty-two ways to fatally wound the bearded gnome, as she had labeled him in her mind, in the Porsche alone. She had seventy-eight ways to just make him suffer. If he left the car, all bets were off and the possibilities would skyrocket.

She peered out of the window and saw the hospital looming up ahead of them. _Oh thank God, back to my sanctuary._ It was weird, referring to a person as a sanctuary, but it most definitely fit in this case. He would shield her from all the future awkward chats with Morgan. It wasn't that she disliked him… per se. He just didn't have that sparkling conversation skill that Chuck had. The one that made you want to open up. Grimly, she thought that, had it been Morgan who had been lying there, bleeding on the ground, she would save him and then be on the next plane to Poland for a good old fashioned mission. "Oh look," she said; her tone faux-pleasant. "We're here."

Morgan looked up and nodded. "Wow that went fast."

Sarah nodded. "It sure did." She didn't bother suppressing the eye-roll this time.

**Entrance, Washington Hospital Center  
>Thursday, December 16<strong>**th****, 2004  
>16:08<strong>

Devon and Ellie stood in front of the door, waiting for Sarah and Morgan to join them. Devon whistled as he saw the car that belonged to Sarah. "Sweet wheels. You must have a killer job."

"I'm an accountant."

Devon raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Didn't know they earned enough to afford a Porsche."

Sarah shrugged. "I'm good with numbers. I make it work."

The jock obviously had more questions, but Sarah had no interest in indulging him. She picked up the pace and headed straight for the revolving doors. She was just about to enter when the one face she didn't want to see with Ellie and her entourage close by, came walking out. Dr. Spencer. The doctor to whom she had introduced herself as 'the girlfriend'. She looked for an escape route, anything to avoid the awkwardness that was sure to settle in once he…

"Ah, Miss Walker. I take it, this is Mr. Bartowski's family? I must say, it's nice to see such a devoted girlfriend."

"Ah yes, well, what can I say," she shrugged, hoping to God that the blush that she felt creeping up from her toes wasn't too visible. But who was she kidding? She could've doubled as a traffic light right at that moment in time.

"You'd be surprised by how many so called girlfriends and boyfriends don't bother after the first twenty-four hours, after they know that the other person is going to make it."

Ellie stepped in. "We're all very grateful to know that my brother has someone such as her by his side." Her tone was pleasant… friendly. Not a single trace of her being shocked which, given the fact that the jock was now standing with his mouth firmly open, was not a small feat. "And I want to personally thank you for taking care of him as well."

"You're very welcome, ma'am." The doctor walked on and out of sight. Sarah's eyes were firmly locked on him, not having the stones to look to her side. She sneaked a few surreptitious glances and saw a shocked Devon, a Morgan who had been nailed to the floor, and Ellie who still looked the same.

"Let's go inside," she pleasantly suggested. This wasn't at all like the intense woman that Chuck had told her about.

They walked inside, Sarah's head slightly hung in shame. She knew the lie could come back to bite her in the ass, but she had hoped that if it would happen, it would be Chuck who found out. Not his sister. At least with Chuck she could hopefully make a joke about it (Chuck refused to believe she wasn't funny) and pass it off. With Ellie… well, it was hard to joke about things like that with siblings.

"Look, Ellie, I…"

Ellie turned around so fast, Sarah was scared she might've gotten whiplash. But the smile was still on her face. "Are you his girlfriend?"

"No, but I…"

Ellie's face fell for a second, but the smile was back on her face within an instant. "If you're going to try and apologize, it's not at all necessary. Look Sarah, you saved my baby-brother. For that alone I am eternally grateful. If you felt like you needed to tell a doctor you were his girlfriend, I'm sure you had your reasons. Besides, you stayed by his bed the entire time."

The sound had been extremely soft, but Sarah's ears had picked up the 'aww' from Ellie's throat anyway. "Well, you're right," she said, her voice defiant, even though she had been given no reason to actually _be_ defiant. "They wouldn't let me stay in his room so I told them I was with him." In a softer voice, she added, "I didn't want him to be alone when he woke up."

The booming "Aww, that's awesome," caught her off guard.

"As eloquent as my boyfriend may be, he's right. That was pretty awesome of you, Sarah."

"Seriously, it was," Morgan acquiesced. The little man had been pretty quiet ever since meeting up with Ellie and Devon again. Sarah got the idea that the bearded man wasn't too happy with Devon being there.

"Right then… I'm glad that's cleared up." She resumed her walk to the room, the rest hot on her heels.

She heard the soles of someone's shoes increase in pace and before she knew it, Ellie was walking next to her. Seeing that the awkwardness had been placated, Sarah felt a bit more confident. Her stride became longer and she started walking in a straighter posture as opposed to the slouched version of her that had been on display. She didn't think that Chuck had lied to her when he described his sister, but she was a lot less intense than she had imagined. Ellie was nice, well mannered and she seemed to be pleasant to be around. It was probably the Bartowski trait.

"If there's any way I can ever repay you, please let me know," Ellie admitted. "Us Bartowski's, we don't forget it when someone does something like this for us. So please, if you ever need anything, feel free to call."

Sarah nodded and they rounded the corner that led to Chuck's room. She couldn't wait to see the look on his face.

**Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center  
>Thursday, December 16<strong>**th****, 2004  
>16:15<strong>

"Before we go in, just know that he's fine."

"I've seen a few stabbings, Sarah. Bound to happen if you work in a hospital."

Sarah nodded and pushed open the door. "Chuck, you've got company."

He looked up and the look on his face was that of a child coming down the stairs on the 25th of December, greeted by a beautiful tree with its ornaments reflecting the light, with dozens of presents underneath. She had to suppress a smile as Ellie reverently walked past Sarah, sat down next to him and brushing a curl from his head. Devon and Morgan stood in the doorway, patiently waiting for their chance. Sarah leaned against the wall, crossing her arms and being content to know that she played a part in making Chuck look happy.

"Hi Ellie." The next thing Sarah knew, Ellie flew up and threw herself at Chuck, hugging him tight and sobbing in his chest. He lifted up his hand and softly stroked her back. "Ssshh, I'm okay Ellie. Really, I am."

"I know," she replied after a while, still refusing to release her brother.

"Would you uh… I don't know if the way you're holding me is good for my stitches."

"I'm a doctor, I know what they can and can't take. You're fine," was her muffled reply. Sarah stifled a laugh as Chuck slumped back and allowed Ellie to hold him for a while longer. She witnessed the sibling's interaction with a pang of jealousy, thinking back to her own sister whom she hadn't spoken to ever since her dad took her from her family.

She had no intention of opening up old wounds, but seeing the brother and sister so in their element caused Sarah to long for the normality once again. Being with the CIA had given her a purpose once more, taught her to compartmentalize the continuous letdowns but no amount of compartmentalizing had ever helped when she reflected at just how pathetic her life truly was.

"Are you okay?" she heard Chuck's voice ask her.

She realized she had completely zoned out of what was happening. When she focused back on the scene, Morgan and Devon had joined Ellie and all sat across the bed, looking at her. Chuck's gaze bored into hers and she swallowed hard, before putting on a fake smile ,the one she had saved for seduction missions that went into _that_ territory although she hadn't yet had to use it, and nodding. "Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

The answer appeased everyone but Chuck, who shot her a knowing look that seemed to say, 'We'll talk about this later.' She had no idea how he could read her so well after just a few days, but she sure as hell wasn't going to talk about this. He made you want to open up, sure. But some things were off limits. Even for someone as inquisitive as Charles Irving Bartowski.

Fine, so she may have spent more than a fleeting glance at his personal file over at the receptionist desk, and knew a lot more about him than was healthy for a 24 year old woman, even one who was a spy.

She walked over and joined the group, settling herself on the bed that stood next to Chuck's. Ellie had taken the chair next to Chuck's pillow, the same chair in which Sarah had nestled herself to keep watch. In a way, it was almost poetic. The passing of the torch from one protector to another, signified by the chair that was closest to him. Next to Ellie was Devon who was holding her hand and next to him was Morgan. He was telling them about the crazy antics of Jeff and Lester, two of Chuck's co-workers who were in Sarah's eyes ready for an asylum.

He had just steered the story into one about how Jeff had managed to slip alcohol in the eggnog, which had led to the rules of Christmas, (One: Jeff doesn't touch the eggnog. That was all) when he suddenly stopped and glanced over at Sarah. His head bobbed towards the other side of his bed, inviting her to move over and sit next to him. Sarah thought about it for a moment, before deciding that yes, she _would_ like to sit next him.

She walked over and put herself in the chair. It was an interesting set up. She looked directly in the eyes of the people that probably meant the most to Chuck and she saw the gratitude first hand. She didn't have to look at a news report to see the smiling faces, glad that their loved ones were returned safe to their families. She didn't have to listen to Graham drone on about how she had made the world a safer place. It made her feel good and accepted. She liked being accepted. It was a testament to how well her cover was holding up.

_But how much of all this is truly a cover?_

She didn't dignify her thoughts with a response.

Shrinks would have a ball if they ever found out that she often held verbal sparring matches between two sets of her thoughts.

The story that Chuck was telling drew to a close, but before the awkwardness could settle in, he suggested that they play a board game. "It helps unwind," he added. The suggestion gained appreciative murmurs of Ellie, who appeared to be just as fond of board games as her brother was, and Morgan who seemed to love everything that Chuck suggested. Devon acquiesced, although Sarah suspected this was more on the principle of his girlfriend playing and Sarah had no intention of spoiling the fun. The game that they chose was Monopoly, something Sarah hadn't played in quite some time. The last time she had played a game of Monopoly was back when she was still a little girl and her family was still together. Still happy. But all that was in the past now and she willed herself to focus on the game. Focusing on different things helped her forget. Helped her to think that it was all just a crazy concoction of her mind. That the memories to her family, cuddled up on the couch were just hallucinations of a damaged mind. It helped her compartmentalize.

Morgan proved to be surprisingly adept at bargaining and had the luck of the dice on his side. Sarah quietly repeated Ellie's sentiment. "The guy can be quite eloquent." Sarah had learned a lot from her new companionship over the past few days, ranging from Chuck and his ability to be amazingly caring, sweet and an all out nice guy despite the trials and tribulations that he had to overcome, as well as the fact that his sister was just as nice and caring. There was one thing that Sarah learned however, that she didn't want to know.

Morgan Grimes was a horrible winner.

**Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center  
>Thursday, December 16<strong>**th****, 2004  
>18:32<strong>

Burgers… lots and lots of burgers. Wrappers were strewn around over the bed, some cluttering the nightstand next to Chuck, but most of it landed on Sarah's bed. The sound of laughter permeated from the room, coupled with the occasional wince from Chuck. He had refused more morphine on the basis that 'he didn't want to be high on meds when his sister rolled around'. Slowly but surely though, his eyes started to droop, which given the fact that the man had been sleeping for quite some time throughout the past few days, was quite remarkable.

He yawned and Ellie eyed him with the certainty that being a doctor would undoubtedly give you. "If you're tired, you should get some sleep little brother."

"So soon?" he said, sounding every bit like a pouting ten year old that had just been imposed a bedtime. "I only just woke up."

"Sorry bro," Devon said, and it sounded like he actually was a bit sorry. "Your sister is right. You have to listen to your body and if your body is telling you to go to sleep, then you should."

"Fine," he grumbled. "I promise to tell you guys about what happened, tomorrow, okay?" He grabbed a few of the wrappers and handed them to Ellie who nodded at him, while Sarah got up and started cleaning up her bed. She grabbed the wrappers that Ellie handed her and threw them in the trashcan. She glanced around the room and saw that Chuck had burrowed himself into the bed while Morgan, Devon and Ellie all wished him a good night and headed outside. Before Ellie passed through the door however, she beckoned Sarah who followed.

As they walked along the hallways, Ellie started talking. "First off, Sarah, I want you to know that we're all incredibly grateful for what you've done for my brother. Me especially, if I could, I'd kiss you."

"Okay… you don't have to thank me, but thank you."

"However, you shouldn't feel obliged to be here. We're here now and we'd have no problem taking over the burden from you. You could return to your own life and not spend it sitting with someone you barely know."

The words came as a slap. It was as much of a dismissal as she had ever heard. Sure, Ellie hadn't exactly said, 'we want you gone' but she had heard the words spoken often enough. Graham loved dismissing his agents like that. She swallowed hard when she realized that despite being pretty much relieved from her position, she had no inclination of actually vacating that spot. But he was her sister. What could she do?

She took a deep breath and nodded. "You're right. I guess I should… I guess I should pack my bag then."

Ellie nodded. "Okay, we'll be in the cafeteria if you need us."

Sarah held up her posture so that the older woman couldn't see how wounded she felt at the words spoken to her. She would have to go back to her old routine. Wake up, go to the gym, watch crappy TV, eat crappy food, go to bed. Rinse and repeat. Her life would be empty, except for when she would go on a mission of course. She sighed and started patting her pants, looking for her phone so she could report back to duty. She'd spin some sort of lie about why she was back so fast and hope that he wouldn't question it. What would Langston Graham think if his star agent had taken time off to tend to the needs of a stranger who had been stabbed? He'd probably give her a lecture on how she had chosen the greater good and that was more important than individuals. She'd heard the story often enough to pretty much dream it.

She reached the door and silently slid it open. Chuck was lying on his back, his hands folded beneath his head, just staring at the roof tiles. When he heard her soles hitting the floor, he turned his head towards her. "Hey. You can't tell me you're going to bed now as well? That'd be crazy." He softly laughed and Sarah felt her spirit lift, only to crash down back to the ground as she realized what she came here to do.

"No… I'm leaving."

"What?" he cried out, and she feared he would sit up so fast that his stitches would pop. Luckily, he had the sense of self-preservation to stay in a supine position. Still, the question hung in the air.

"I'm… leaving," she choked out in response. Why was this so damn hard?

"Why?"

"Because your sister is right. I don't belong here."

Chuck sighed, but it wasn't a defeated one. It sounded like a sigh that said, 'not this again'. "Where is she?"

"In the cafeteria."

"Could you please get her for me?"

"Uh… sure?" He hadn't said anything about her leaving, but if the tone of his voice was any indication, his sister was about to receive a massive reaming.

She opened the door, but as she stepped out, Chuck called her name.

"What is it?"

"I don't want you to go."

_Someone you barely know._ The words kept repeating in her mind, undoubtedly true. So why was it that when he confided that he didn't want her to go, it put her mind at ease? She didn't say anything. She didn't acknowledge it with anything. But her shoulders relaxed and the tension that she had felt from the moment that Ellie had told her that it would be better if she would go back to her own life was gone. She stepped out and softly closed the door, before walking to the cafeteria.

Ellie, Morgan and Devon sat around a table, discussing what they wanted to do. Sarah walked up to Ellie and cleared her throat. "Chuck wants to talk to you," she said, before sitting down in a vacant seat. Ellie looked at her entourage and nodded before walking out of the cafeteria, leaving Sarah alone with the two men. No one said a word as they all waited for Ellie to come back. Seconds turned into minutes and when she finally came back, she looked frazzled. "Could I speak to you for a moment?" she asked Sarah.

She nodded and walked with Ellie, in a scene eerily reminiscent of fifteen minutes earlier. Again, Ellie was the first to talk. "Chuck told me that you seemed hesitant to leave. Is that true?"

Sarah nodded, before she realized that Ellie was in front of her and couldn't see it. "Yes."

Ellie stopped so suddenly that Sarah almost ran into her. She turned and grabbed a hold of Sarah's hand. "Then why didn't you say so?"

"Wha?"

"Why would you leave if you don't want to?"

"Because you said that…"

"I said that you could go back if you wanted to. I never said that you should leave. If Chuck doesn't want you to leave and you don't want to leave, who are we to tell you that you can't stay?"

"But… I thought…" How could she be so wrong? The spy life had ingrained on her for years to read between the lines. And now, she realized that she had been going about it all wrong. Ellie was just like her brother. She spoke her mind. Sarah hadn't needed to look for any hidden meanings or different intonations. What Ellie and Chuck said, they truly meant without reservation. It was a character trait she had never before met and there was something inherently disarming about it. You always knew where you stood with them.

Ellie smiled. "Chuck made a good case with regards to you staying. I'm pretty sure that if he could, he would've used flowcharts and graphics to explain his point.

Sarah laughed. It wouldn't surprise her at all if he actually _would_ use flowcharts to describe his reasoning for staying. He just seemed like the kind of person that would go to such lengths to get something he really wanted.

That was about the time that Sarah realized that he _really_ wanted her to stay. She filed that little tidbit of information away in her brain. Maybe, when she would once again be feeling alone when this was all over, she could dig it back up and revel in the fuzzy feeling that it gave her.

They walked back to the table where Morgan and Devon were discussing something. What it was, Sarah had no idea. She thought she heard something about tucking, but the moment the two women rejoined the table, they both promptly shut up.

"Is everything okay, babe?"

"Is there something wrong with Chuck?" Morgan immediately asked.

Ellie laughed. "No, everything's fine. Just a little misunderstanding, that's all." She glanced down at her wrist before announcing her intention to retire to the hotel. They all stood and Sarah walked them to the front door. After making plans on when to meet up, they hailed a cab and disappeared from sight, leaving Sarah standing outside. The night proved cold and she hurried back inside. She looked at the clock and had to scoff when she was seriously considering calling it a night. But then again, getting emotional over things was tiring. And yet, it also served to validate her existence, just as Chuck was doing. Maybe she hadn't completely lost herself to the spy world just yet.

She smiled and walked back to Chuck's room on autopilot. As she opened the door, she noticed that Chuck was still awake. That was good. At least now she had something to do instead of immediately going to sleep.

She dove under the covers and shrugged out of her clothing, bar her bra and panties. She dropped the pile of clothing on the duffel bag. She figured she would have to go to back to her apartment soon and maybe do a workout. But she would discuss those things with Chuck first. She had no interest in once again feeling guilty for an entire session. One time was plenty enough.

"Sarah…"

"Yes, Chuck?"

"Why did you look so sad today?"

"What do you mean?"

She heard the rustling of the covers and she knew he was turning to face her. "With Ellie, when she hugged me. You kind of zoned out and got a really sad look on your face."

"Oh, it's nothing. Don't worry about it." She hoped that he would take it, but in the back of her head, she knew better.

"Talk to me, Sarah."

His patient tone, his honest inquiring… it served to anger her. "What the hell do you not get about 'don't worry about it'? Is it really _that_ hard to grasp when you need to butt out."

Her outburst shut him up for a few seconds. "I didn't mean to…"

"I don't care what you did or didn't mean to. You need to learn when to take a hint, Chuck and this is one of those times." She didn't want to snap at him, but she knew that if he kept asking… kept prodding, that she would crack. And she would tell him about what was bugging her. And he would listen. And it scared the living daylights out of her.

She kept quiet and the only sound in the room, apart from the intermittent beeping from the ECG, was the labored breathing of Sarah, and Chuck's calm breathing. It had a slight hitch in it, proving that he was upset. Whether that was because she snapped at him, or because he felt bad, she didn't know.

She closed her eyes and tried to make herself fall asleep. But damn it, she felt bad for snapping at him. She was just about to open her mouth to apologize, when he spoke. "I'm sorry for pushing you. That was not my intention." His voice wasn't cold and bitter like she half-expected it to be. It was understanding and remorseful.

"No, look, I'm sorry. I overreacted. It's just that I don't feel comfortable sharing stuff like this. After all, we've only known each other for three days." She tried to play it off as a joke, but she knew that he understood what she was trying to say. Of course, it was rather obvious what she was trying to say. 'Back the hell away from my personal life.'

"Okay. Well, apology accepted."

"Yeah… so is yours."

Slowly, she felt her eyelids drooping and falling into a slumber. The night was dreamless.

**Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center  
>Friday, December 17<strong>**th****, 2004  
>09:45<strong>

The nurse that woke them this time was a lot more nuanced about it than 'overly-ambitious-nurse' had been. Sarah was grateful. She couldn't believe that she had slept almost twelve hours, and yet she felt like she could fit in an extra couple of hours, no problem. Seeing as how she wasn't a morning person by nature and she had in fact brought her weapons, she was afraid of what the results could've been had it been the nurse from a few days before.

She brought in a tray of breakfast for Chuck, who once again gave his apple to her. She couldn't stop the grateful look that appeared on her face, or the smile that she got in return.

As she bit into the apple and was surprised by the quality, she couldn't help but think that the one thing she had been dying to know would finally be revealed. Chuck was going to tell how he got in the hospital.

It was morbid, she knew. But she just couldn't fathom why anyone would want to hurt someone like him. But today… today she would find out.

It was 10 AM when Ellie, Devon and Morgan walked into the room. She glanced from them to Chuck and noticed that his color slowly started returning. Sarah figured that it wouldn't be long until they started physical therapy to help him rebuild some of the lost muscles due to being demoted to bed rest. "Hey guys," he said in a cheerful tone.

"Morning, Chuck," Morgan said. He was always the first one to extend those kinds of colloquial greetings.

"Morning, little buddy," he responded as he chewed on the sandwich he hadn't fully devoured yet.

"Looking good, Chuckster," Devon complimented.

"Thanks Cap… Devon."

They all gathered their chairs and Ellie was weirdly quiet. Sarah slid up to her and asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah… yeah I'm fine… It's just a bit surreal to hear how my brother got stabbed of all things."

"Just remember, he's fine now."

"I know… I know. Thanks, though."

"No worries." Sarah didn't know what to say to her. She couldn't imagine how surreal it would've felt if her sister would tell her that she got stabbed. She just offered whatever solace she could and hoped that it was enough. Luckily for her, that seemed to be the case.

Chuck looked around at the people gathered around him. He then looked to Ellie and started talking.

"It all started when Big Mike called me into his office…"

* * *

><p><strong>AN2: **OH SNAP, Cliffhanger! I got to keep you guys coming back somehow! Please leave a review, even if it's just to tell me that you did (or didn't) enjoy this chapter. If you only understood how nice it is to receive them, you'd hand them out much more often! Let's try and reach a 100 reviews for this story by the time chapter 6 comes up! I promised it would be in time for Christmas and you people can help. How? Why, by reviewing of course. Reviews make me eager to write, and when I'm eager for something, I end up doing it fast! Yes, I'm very petty, thank you for asking!

Until next time.


	6. The Reminiscing

**A/N: **Wow, I ask and you people deliver... in a big way! I was so happy to see the 100 reviews achieved so easily and I want to thank each and every one of you for making it entertaining and exhilirating to provide new chapters. Especially if the response is like that. The only thing I can do is keep asking you to review. Each and every review, no matter how negative (granted, if the critique is good. If not, then it's sort of meh) or positive is wholly appreciated.

Special thanks once again go out to my fantastic beta **ShinyJayne20**. She didn't beta this chapter completely, so any mistakes are probably mine. Her not beta'ing this one had to do with my promise to you, e.g. to deliver this chapter before Christmas. I didn't exactly make that, but well, I had a REALLY busy week and getting this done on Christmas morning isn't half bad either (It's 06:19 in my timezone) Anyway, on with the story.

**Disclaimer**: Nope, don't own it.

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><p><strong>The Good Samaritan, Chapter 6<br>The Reminiscing**

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><p><strong>Burbank Buy More, California<br>Monday, 6 December, 2004  
>15:42<strong>

"Bartowski!"

The ever familiar voice boomed, leaving the already silent store just a bit quieter. Chuck who had been methodically explaining to a frantic kid how swiping magnets over hard drives did not reset them but actually served to destroy them completely, looked up and saw the voluptuous man standing in the doorway of his office.

"I'll be with you in a sec, Big Mike!" he shouted back, before focusing his attention on the kid again, who now looked close to tears. He wanted to help him, he really did. But other than selling him a new hard drive, there was nothing else he could do. The boy left dejectedly while Chuck peered out over the store. He figured he could slip out for a second to see what was up with the store manager.

He bolted from the desk and walked over to where Big Mike was still standing in the doorway, thoughtfully munching on one of the donuts that Chuck had brought to work. Big Mike was a lot easier to deal with if he had his daily fill of sugar-intake.

He shut the door before waggling over to his chair. Big Mike had lost the ability to walk like a normal human being, five clothing-sizes ago. As he sat down in his chair, which caused Chuck to wonder how exactly he afforded said chair as the store was barely turning a profit, he pawed another donut from the box, taking a bite and blowing out a deep breath. The man did not like coming into his own store.

"First off, Bartowski; I've got to ask. These donuts… are you trying to sweet talk me?"

"N… no, no, not at all sir. I just thought that since you liked donuts, I could give you some. There's no ulterior motive or anything, I just generally like being nice to people." His mouth turned into a lopsided grin and he tried to look as innocent as possible. The boss didn't need to know that his employees were indirectly keeping him in control by making sure he got his fix.

Mike dusted some of the powdered sugar from his mouth, before closing his eyes and stroking his chin thoughtfully. Chuck didn't utter a word. He had seen the consequences of breaking his concentration first hand. He was pretty sure that that employee had sustained a severe psychological trauma and would probably never be able to work again. It was _that_ scary.

Although if Chuck was honest with himself, five minutes was an awfully long time to think.

"Sir?" he tried after the sixth minute, still somewhat scared by the possible outburst.

"I like you Bartowski," he replied before opening his eyes again. "Which makes it that much easier for me to tell you that you've earned yourself a trip to DC."

"What? Why?" Chuck stuttered.

"Because you..." He pointed a chubby finger at Chuck, "will be the first person in the greater Los Angeles area who gets a hands-on with the newest Roark laptop. And after that, you get to take it with you."

"Wow. That's amazing," Chuck said, nearly drooling in anticipation. Theodore Roark was a legend in the hardware industry. The Roark 6 was supposed to be the strongest of the strong, involving architecture that had yet to be seen by the most common hardware producers. As a matter of fact, rumors were circulating that the common manufacturers such as nVidia, ATi and Intel all based their architecture on Roark's designs. "But why me?"

"Because you're a good kid, Bartowski. You work hard which means that I don't have to work. I appreciate that in a man. Plus, do you think that we'd send Patel? I'm trying to better our rep, not destroy it. So when you get back, I had better hear stories of you and Roark being best friends. This is a golden opportunity that my boy Moses gave us, and we cannot afford to waste it. And _that's_ why I'm sending you. It's a three day trip; you'll be flying out on the thirteenth and flying back on the sixteenth. I expect you to be back behind that desk on the seventeenth."

"But sir, I just got promoted to Nerd Herd supervisor. Are you sure it's smart to send me? Who would take care of Jeff and Lester? Who would get Morgan to start working?"

Big Mike sighed and grabbed another donut. He chewed half of it off in one go and when he was done munching, he said, "Bartowski, there are only a few things sweeter than this donut I'm eating now. One of them is watching the water lap against the side of your boat, swaying along as if you're floating on the Lord's palm while he softly rocks you to sleep. The other is Mrs. Tang." He bit his lip in arousal and Chuck wished that some brilliant mind would've invented brain bleach. The images that his mind had conjured up almost served to get him reacquainted with his breakfast. "Now," Big Mike continued, "since she's nowhere to be found and neither is a lake, son, you had best go to that conference. No excuses."

Chuck knew when he was defeated and arguing with the boss was never a battle that could be won. He relented and stood up to leave. He opened the door, but before he could walk through he heard Mike saying, "And if any of those fools get wise with me, I'll introduce them to my disco stick."

Chuck, for reasons pertaining to his own sanity, decided to act like he didn't just hear that.

He trudged back to the Nerd Herd counter and let his head fall on the counter. He was excited to go to DC. After all, who wouldn't want to visit the main Roark Industries office at the nation's capital city? Sure, they had a location in L.A. as well, and that would become the main office in a year or so, since Roark claimed that he didn't like the weather in their current location but it all started in Washington DC.

But he had a responsibility. It wasn't that he didn't trust Big Mike with regards to keep his staff in check. He just didn't trust Big Mike to bother showing up in this dump for the time that it took him to go on this business trip.

He felt, rather than heard, Lester slither up to him. Of course, the smell of beer that came from Lester's shadow, Jeff, was a good indication as well. "So Charles, did the big man finally cut you down? Did he kick you of your pedestal that you've claimed as your own ever since you were promoted to Nerd Herd supervisor?"

"I would've made a great supervisor," Jeff slurred.

"That you would've, Jeffrey," Lester said as he patted him on the back. It caused Jeff to belch. "So Bartowski, when can I expect Big Mike to tell me that I am the new supervisor?"

"Actually, it was nothing like that." Chuck decided that he had no intention of further indulging Lester and promptly turned to look for Morgan. He would be sufficiently excited to share in Chuck's joy.

"Oh, I see how it is. You're too busy for us normal people. We get it don't we, eh Jeffrey? Let's go and see if we can get an early round at Bennies."

Jeff walked behind the Hin-Jew while slightly swaying, indicating at least a medium level of intoxication at four in the afternoon. Chuck narrowed his eyes and hollered, "Guys, you're still on shift!"

"We're taking a break," Lester called back.

"You just had one, ten minutes ago!"

"Don't care Bartowski!" he shouted and then they were gone. Chuck shook his head and set off to find Morgan. He found him hanging around the DVD collections, trying to chat up customers.

"Morgan."

The little man's head swiveled around and connected with Chuck. He instantly left the conversation he was having and joined up with him. "What's up, Chuck?"

"Bro, you're not going to believe this."

"What?"

"Make a guess," he said, the smile ghosting on his lips.

"You just met Vicky Vale and you're going on a date?"

Chuck's face fell slightly. Nothing could beat _that._ "Sadly, no. But I am being sent to Washington to get the new Roark 6 laptop, courtesy of Big Mike!"

"Dude, what?" Morgan exclaimed. "Those aren't out for another four months!"

"I know man, I'm so stoked."

Morgan's eyes widened. "Oh man, Ellie is going to freak! You haven't left Burbank since Stanford."

"Well, it's not like she can forbid me to go," said Chuck, smiling. "I'm an adult now. And besides, this might be good for me. Maybe a change of scenery is what I need to… you know."

"Oh man, I get ya. I do." The bearded man shrugged knowingly. "Well, as I'm sure you know, when something good happens, Ellie makes something special. So let's say, seven at your house?"

Chuck beamed. "See you there. Peddle safe, buddy."

He walked back to the desk and sat back down. It was only a matter of time before he would be done with working and would get some of Ellie's fantastic cooking. Maybe follow it up with some Halo and Chuck's night would be, to borrow the term from the Captain himself, awesome.

**Ellie and Chuck's apartment, Echo Park  
>Monday, 6 December, 2004<br>18:30**

The door opened and Ellie walked in looking very disheveled. There were bags under her half-lidded eyes; her hair was also beginning to come out of her messy bun. To put it simply, she was exhausted and it showed. Trailing in behind her was Devon Woodcomb, awesome boyfriend and arch-nemesis to one Morgan Grimes. The rivalry was one-sided of course, as the younger bearded man stood no chance to woo Chuck's sister. So as much as he loved Morgan like a brother, he thought that Ellie and Devon were perfect for each other. That was what mattered to him most above everything else: Ellie's happiness.

"Hey Chuck," she said before tossing her set of keys haphazardly through the air. With a graceful arc, they landed in the bowl. It used to amaze Chuck, but nowadays it was as normal as watching her save lives on a daily basis.

Now that he thought about it, his sister was pretty damn amazing.

He regarded both of them with a smile and nod. "Hey sis…Devon."

Despite working long hours at the hospital, Devon grinned. "Chuckster! Sup hombre?"

"Not much. I have some good news actually." Chuck stood up from the couch and allowed Devon and Ellie to take his spot while he moved over to stand next to the TV. "I'm flying out to Washington DC in a week for a business trip."

"What? What?" Ellie flew up from the couch, the earlier fatigue completely forgotten. "How? Why?"

"Calm down, Ellie," he said, a grin plastered on his face. He guided her back to the couch before taking a seat across from them in a chair. "Basically, Big Mike managed to get an entry into a private Roark Industries exposition and he wants me to go."

"Roark Industries?" Ellie asked, scrounging her eyebrows. "Didn't they make that laptop that you own?"

Chuck nodded. "Yeah, the Roark 5. They're revealing the Roark 6 at the exposition and they're allowing the attendees to take one of them home. And somehow, Big Mike managed to get a spot in them and he picked me!" The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to go. Chuck didn't like showing off, but it was a Roark 6 after all. But more than that, it was the realization that Big Mike truly cared for him. After all, he could've demanded that it'd be placed on display and he hadn't. So maybe his contributions weren't all for nothing. At least one person seemed to appreciate what he did, bar Ellie and Morgan of course.

"That's great, Chuck!" Ellie congratulated him. She walked over and pulled him into a medium-strength Ellie-Hug. "I'm glad to see that others are beginning to see your potential."

Of course, she left unsaid that he had the potential for so much more, but they had been doing that particular dance for a while now and so far Chuck had yet to concede.

"How long you going over there?" Devon asked.

"Three days. I fly out on Monday, the convention's on Tuesday, Wednesday is mine and I fly back on Thursday."

"Awesome! So are you going to be tearing it up at night?"

"Uh, don't know yet. But I'm definitely going to see some sights!" Chuck wasn't particularly a fan of barhopping. He'd been to a few bars with Bryce during his college years, and it was fun going as a big group. But being alone would give off of a vibe that Chuck didn't feel would help him in the long run.

"Well, whatever you decide to do, it's nice to see the enthusiasm return, little brother. See Devon, this was the Chuck I was talking about before… you know who. Confident, excited, charming." She smoothed the fabric of his starch-white shirt and looked up at him. "It's nice to have you back brother."

"Wait, you're telling me that this Chuck is the one that had always been around? Bro, I have to say, I've always enjoyed your company a lot, but seeing you like this… I've got to start taking you out some more."

Chuck grinned. He knew this was a big deal to Ellie, seeing him come back to his old self for a bit, even though he still wasn't completely over Jill, nor would he ever really be. After all, who could replace her? But she loved seeing him like this and he actually felt pretty decent for a change.

And besides, the laptop was really freaking cool.

"Well, in celebration of people finally recognizing my little brother for the talent that he deserves, I'm making a special dinner tonight."

Chuck smiled. He did love it when Ellie would cook. But still, she had a long day and he didn't want to push her. Even if it meant that he had to cook. Although in his case, he would probably phone Morgan and ask him to pick up some Sizzling Shrimp from the Bamboo Dragon. But still. "Sis, you don't have to do this. I'm perfectly fine with ordering something."

"Nonsense," she said as she got back up and started walking to the kitchen. Chuck sent a helpless, pleading look to Devon. Maybe he could convince her that it wasn't necessary. But the shrug he got in return said that not even the most awesome of Captains could stop Ellie when she put her mind to something. And it was most definitely on food right now.

Pots and pans were almost flying through the kitchen and Ellie was moving at an impossibly high speed, turning on the stove, getting meat and vegetables from the fridge and onto a cutting board. It was honestly a little scary to see someone so adept with a knife.

Chuck glanced at his watch and noted that it was close to 7 PM. Just a few more…

A knock on the door halted his thoughts and he went to open it. Morgan bounded through, looking like an excited puppy. Of course the comparison wasn't that far off since Morgan often acted like a puppy when it came to Ellie's cooking. This was no exception.

"What is he doing here?" Ellie asked, her expression vaguely horrified at the sight of the man-child.

"I asked him if he wanted to come and celebrate with me," Chuck replied, a lopsided grin taking over his face. Ellie had never really been able to say no to that grin and she relented.

"Fine, I guess you can stay, Morgan. But so help me God, if you mess up this dinner, I will kick you out of this house without a single regret." Ellie's face had contorted to one of extreme distaste and Chuck had to remind himself that not everyone was as fond of the little man as he was. Of course, those people didn't have Morgan helping them out when their parents left them.

But then again, Morgan did a fantastic job of not appearing impressed in the slightest. The threat barely fazed him.

"So what's for dinner?"

**Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center  
>Friday, December 17th, 2004<br>10:35**

The fist landed on his arm with quite the amount of strength behind it. Sarah would've flinched, had she not seen it coming from a mile away. "Ow! Need I remind you that I got stabbed a few days ago? Please keep the physical violence to a minimum."

"That was for using your damn charm to let Morgan stay! I can't believe you would do such a thing to your sister." Ellie responded. Sarah fought to keep the giggle at bay.

"For what it's worth, I've never used my powers for evil."

"No only when you…" Ellie stopped mid-sentence as she seemed to be figuring something out. "Only when you wanted something that involved Morgan!" she seethed. "Consider us on a no-speaking term until further notice." She crossed her arms in an indignant pose, but Sarah caught the brief smile that flickered over her face.

"Where was I…? Oh right, so the rest of the week went pretty smooth. Then, on Tuesday, I went to the conference."

**Downtown Washington, Washington D.C  
>Tuesday, December 14th, 2004<br>15:39**

Chuck rushed along the crowd, his curls bouncing wildly on his forehead. He had his messenger bag slung across his shoulder and was finishing the last few bites of his sandwich. Roark had given them time for a late lunch and after that, they would get some time for one-on-ones, plus they would get the new Roark 6 laptop. The presentation had been interesting. Chuck likened Theodore Roark to Willy Wonka. He was eccentric, sure. But he was a certified genius. He was a true visionary of the electronic world.

His step faltered when his eyes settled on a beautiful face within the crowd. It was a woman with gorgeous blonde hair. She was a shorter than he was, but not by much, which considering his length was quite special. She wore a simple combination of a light-brown (he swore it was the same color as Mal's trench coat) leather jacket, a pair of jeans and some high heels, but it struck Chuck as gorgeous nonetheless. He shook his head and increased his pace. He had no intention of wasting a valuable chance like the one he had right now. He would do everything in his capabilities to ensure that by that time tomorrow, Theodore Roark would know everything there was to know about the Buy More.

He crossed the street at the intersection and walked back into the conference hall. People were already lined up, waiting to be allowed into the grand auditorium again, the one where just a few hours ago, Theodore Roark had blown everyone away. The specifications that the machine had with regards to its hardware were mindboggling. Chuck glanced around the room and found nothing but people who shared similar hobbies to him. It wasn't a big surprise, considering the fact that the laptop was mostly used as a mobile gaming device. He recognized a few reviewers from PC magazines, but most of them were simply gaming journalists. It made him wonder just what exactly Big Mike's 'boy Moses' had done to secure him a place between these people.

The doors opened and smoke billowed out. That was new. "Gentlemen, prepare yourselves," a PA blared through the waiting room. "Heeeeeeeereeeeee's TEDDY!"

Jock Jams 'Let's Get Ready to Rumble' blared through the small hall as Theodore Roark ran out; hoisted in a completely different outfit than the one he was in just hours before. Chuck couldn't help but think back to Space Jam as Roark came out in a LA Lakers outfit, complete with sweatbands for both his wrists and his head. The collective response was a few extra blinks to make sure no one had lost their minds. Apparently no one had.

Bar Roark, of course.

The music died down and Roark went around, personally talking to everyone. Chuck had a serious case of being star struck, but he knew a lot of people were depending on him to be cool. So he wiggled himself into his Charles Carmichael persona, self-made billionaire, winner of the American Cup, and waited for the inevitable meet-up.

"Ah, you must be Chuck Bartowski,"

"Uh, what?" The carefully constructed façade fell in seconds. He had been ready to introduce himself. Charles Bartowski, supervisor of the technical staff at the Burbank Buy More (because Nerd Herd supervisor didn't really demand the same respect). Instead, Roark talked like he had known Chuck his entire life. "If I may ask sir, how do you know my name?"

"That's easy, son. It says it right there on your pocket protector."

Chuck looked down when he realized that he had indeed brought along his pocket protector. "Ah… I see… very observant of you, sir."

Roark bellowed a laugh. "Call me Ted."

Chuck threw on his best lopsided smile. "Hi Ted… as you might've guessed, I'm Chuck."

**Downtown Washington  
>Tuesday, December 14th, 2004<br>17:20**

Chuck was feeling pretty pleased with himself. After all, it wasn't every day that Theodore Roark would shoot the breeze with someone he had only just met. And to treat him like a friend was something that truly baffled Chuck. He figured that Roark would be like any other celebrity and simply shrug away any one-on-one meetings. Instead, Roark made sure to socialize with every attendee and Chuck had even managed to give him his Buy More card. In return, he got a card from Roark Industries. How cool was that?

But the coolest thing of all, he felt when he was walking through the streets. The comfortable weight of the newest Roark laptop in his messenger bag. Holy bejeezus, it was so awesome.

He glanced around and couldn't stop the silly grin from spreading. Here he was, in the nation's capital, having the most amazing laptop in the world in his possession and he had a day left to explore the city, expenses paid. He had to actually pinch himself when he woke up in his hotel that morning.

He sped up a bit, not wanting to wait a second longer in getting to explore his new toy. However, he stopped in his tracks when he heard a moan coming from an alleyway. His mind went to places it shouldn't have gone, but he couldn't help himself. It really did sound like…

"Help," he heard the voice moan.

Okay, that definitely wasn't a pleasured moan.

Abandoning his resolve to get back to the hotel, he instead walked into the alley, trying to locate the source of the moaning. The farther he walked into the alley, the worse his nerves got. What if the guy was…? He didn't want his mind to finish that question. He just hoped that if it was in fact the worst case scenario, there wouldn't be any blood.

The moaning returned, this time increased in volume and Chuck spotted a dumpster, close to the end of the alley. As he peered around the corner, he saw a man clutching his chest, near the heart area. Quickly he sat down. "Sir, are you alright?" The man didn't give off a response and Chuck grabbed his shoulders, shaking him. "Sir, are you with me?" The man still didn't respond, other than the occasional moan. Chuck decided that he had seen enough and it was time to call an ambulance. He stood up and reached for his phone. He had just pressed the first one when he felt an arm slither up his neck and pulling tight. The phone flew out of his hands and clattered on the pavement. The man's grip was iron tight and he felt the oxygen slowly depleting.

"Take everything he has," he heard the man say. Two big men strode from behind a corner of the wall and walked up to him. Chuck's eyes went wild, trying to find an escape, but the more frantic he became, the more he began to realize that it was futile and his best chances for survival were complying and hoping that his stuff was all they wanted.

That was around the time that he felt the adrenaline kick in. Without truly mulling it over, his elbow flew back, hitting the lanky man that had a hold of him in the sternum. He obviously didn't expect any resistance and his hold briefly faltered, releasing Chuck's windpipe and giving him a chance to escape. He didn't waste a second and bolted from the scene. He ran past the burly men with a display of agility that would have Neo salivating. He saw the alley split up. The road straight ahead would lead to a dead end. So surely, if he would turn right he would…

The profanity that left his lips when he found out that the turn he made led to a dead end as well would've made him blush, if he wasn't so terrified. He turned around and saw the robbers stalk up to him. "Look," he called out. "I'll drop my wallet and you'll let me go, okay?"

The lanky man laughed. "Do you really think that this is how it works?"

"Yes?" he tried. He hoped to God that all the time spent reading comic books wasn't for naught and that any moment now, his own personal superhero or guardian angel could swoop in and save him. Of course, he wasn't born yesterday. He knew that in the situation he was in would lead to a bad ending. He just hoped that he would live to tell the tale one day.

"Think again, kiddo," the leader replied, while one of the goons pulled out a knife.

_Kiddo?_ "Uh, FYI, I'm twenty-three. You don't look a day over twenty-five." He wanted to slap himself in frustration. Hadn't he learned anything from years and years of watching action flicks? _Never_ backtalk the hostage taker (or robber, in this case) unless you wanted to enter a serious world of hurt.

Instead, the robber seemed merely amused. "Obviously you don't know how this works, so I'll cut you some slack. Hand over everything."

Chuck pulled his wallet out of his pocket and tossed it in front of the robbers. "Take it."

"Your messenger bag too," the burly man, with greased back black hair grunted.

"There's nothing in there," Chuck replied. Okay, that was a total lie, but Chuck had no intention of letting the Roark 6 get in the hands of those people. He knew that Roark wasn't stupid, that he had made sure that every computer had a digital tag. And if the computer would make its way on the black market and Roark found out that it was his, then his credibility would be ruined. And even worse, considering the fact that his credibility had already been ruined since Stanford, the store's credibility would suffer.

"Wrong answer," the thug said and he ran forward with surprising speed. Chuck got pushed back and landed against the wall. He heard the other thug scream.

"What the fuck? That wasn't the plan!"

"Shut the fuck up and help me get this bag!"

Chuck's chest was pulled forward and he heard a wet, sopping sound as the blade he had been stabbed with, was pulled from his chest. Part of the blade got caught on his pocket protector which was pulled out of his shirt's pocket and fell to the concrete. His eyes focused on the blood and with a morbid fascination, he watched as his life essence dripped off the blade, the reflecting glint of the metal intensified by the crimson color that had washed over it.

Then he felt the pain.

Seconds later, his survival instinct kicked in.

He threw away the carrier bag and with strength he didn't knew he possessed, he threw the big man off him, elbowed the other one in the ribs and dashed away, as fast as his long legs could carry him. He ran past the blasted dumpster that had held his personal Siren's call, the pleading cry of a human being. He ran past the walls that made him feel trap and finally he saw the mass of people walking past the damned alley and he burst through into the crowd.

"Please help me," he said, asking every pedestrian he could find to please for the love of God get him some help. He clung to a woman who had groceries in her hand. Chuck didn't care. He just needed to get the hell away from that alley.

"Let me go, you freak!" she shouted, before shrugging away from him and speed-walking to her destination. The shout had caused unwanted commotion and people started staring at him.

"Please," he begged in a softer voice than normal. He looked around him, frantically. His eyes scanned the crowd, hoping to see some empathy, but all he found was revulsion or blank stares. Then his eyes connected with the lanky man. This was not good. They were obviously going to drag him in another alley and finish the job.

He burst through the crowd and stood frozen to the spot. His eyes connected with the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. And while normally, he would've acted like a bumbling idiot given his reputation for when it came to talking to beautiful women, today was anything but normal. "Please, please help me," he croaked, before he felt his legs buckle from under him and the pavement headed his way with frightening speed.

After that, his world went black. The last thing he found himself thinking was that he hoped he would still be alive after this whole ordeal got finished.

**Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center  
>Friday, December 17th, 2004<br>11:00**

"After that, I woke up a couple of times and apparently had an interesting chat with Miss Walker over here…" He grinned in her direction and Sarah's world briefly brightened. "…but other than that, that's about all I can remember, until I woke up in here."

"A… robbery?" Ellie asked, trembling on her chair and only just able to keep the rage inside. "My baby brother got stabbed because of the fact that he was trying to help someone?"

"Ellie, please. What your brother tried to do was noble and…"

"Stop it," Ellie retorted and it almost sounded like a plea. "I know… I just… I can't believe what this world is coming to when my baby brother gets stabbed because of a fucking robbery!" The last few words exploded out of her mouth like a white hot rage and after the violent outburst, she literally collapsed in Devon's arms, who whispered soothing words in her ear.

It took a tense couple of minutes, but Devon managed to talk her into a more peaceful state of mind. She looked up, but instead of looking at Chuck, she looked straight at Sarah.

"Did they catch the bastards?"

Sarah shook her head. "No, not all of them. They caught the two side-kicks, but the leader is still out there. I did give my statement to an officer and I told him I would be available as a witness when this matter goes to court."

"Good," Ellie said, the venom in her tone still apparent, but slightly less vehement than before.

"Holy shit!" Chuck exclaimed. "What about the laptop?"

Sarah shook her head. "We haven't found it."

"Oh crap! I got to get in touch with Roark. If he finds out then…"

Sarah put her finger on his lips, stopping him mid-ramble, which surprised the hell out of… well, everyone in the room. "Don't worry," she said, her voice just a touch breathy. "I'll take care of it."

She removed her finger and stood up, intent on making sure that Roark understood that under no circumstances was Chuck Bartowski to blame for the loss of his precious laptop.

**Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center  
>Friday, December 17th, 2004<br>22:15**

The day drew to an end. After Chuck's explanation, Sarah had actually managed to get in touch with Roark, who promised them that it was no big deal. The man even offered to send Chuck a new one, free of charge. Sarah was surprised at the generosity of the man and at first suspected that it might've been a ploy. But Chuck assured her that Roark was an honest man and that he would feel honored to get another one, and beyond grateful. So she accepted the offer on his behalf and that was that.

The day had gone rather smooth after that. They entertained each other with stories and general gossip. Sarah of course mainly stayed away from the gossip talk. Her gossip mainly consisted of who was building nuclear weapons and what the annual stockholders meeting from Smith and Wesson contained. She was a proud owner of a stock and she made sure to keep up to date on the latest happenings within them.

She had managed to run home and grab a quick shower and a change of clothes while the rest stayed with Chuck. Still, her shower took the bare minimum of time and before she knew it, she was back at his side.

Ellie, Devon and Morgan had gone to the hotel at around nine, leaving Sarah with Chuck. Sarah had finally given up the ridiculous notion that it was because she was scared he might code again and just accepted the fact that it was nice to be in his vicinity. It almost felt like having her blankie again, the one that she had lost when her father had taken her away. And besides, the only one she was fooling with her reasoning for staying, was she herself.

She threw off her clothes and lay down in the cool bed. "Sweet dreams, Chuck."

"I sure hope so," he muttered, before replying, "You too."

She knew she should protest, wondering what his comment was all about. But she decided that she was too tired to care. She snuggled into the comforter and her eyes drooped almost as if on cue.

The nightmare came back.

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><p><strong>AN2: **Since it worked so amazingly well the last time around, I will go ahead and beg for reviews. Let's try and reach 130 this time! I would love for that to happen and hey, it might just inspire me to write faster (and start planning a sequel :D)

Happy holidays everyone. Hope you have a blast.


	7. The Revalidating

**A/N**: Hi, remember me? Yeah, I was that guy who so boldly stated that reviews would help me work harder. They did... except my brain decided to throw up a nasty case of writers block. Yeah, it wasn't at all fun. My apologies for the extreme lateness in this chapter. And to boot, it isn't even that big! For shame! Although that has more to do with my decision to cut this chapter in half. The original chapter was around double the current size so there's that.

Thanks go out to all readers, supporters and people who favorite this story, but the true heroes are the reviewers who make it all worth it. Thank you all for your reviews, they inspire me like nobody's business. More thanks go out to **ShinyJayne20** who listens to me bitch and moan about shit and somehow still hasn't deleted me from her contacts list. It's a damn miracle is what it is!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Chuck. I do own ham sandwiches, although I usually have something more complex at 4 in the morning. But I'm weird anyway! With regards to the physical therapy, please note that I am not a doctor. Anything I write here shouldn't be seen as fact.

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><p><strong>The Good Samaritan, Chapter 7<br>The Revalidating**

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><p>Sarah looked around her and she saw the familiar cobblestone paved streets, the familiar red bricks, the familiar fog. She knew her part in all of this. She knew exactly how everything would play out from now until she would wake up, either with a shriek of terror, or silence. Either way, she would be terrified.<p>

She vowed to get it over with as soon as possible. She could return to the land of the living, return to safety of the hospital. Away from everything that Paris brought with it. It was weird, being completely aware of the fact that you were dreaming, but at the same time, powerless to escape its clutches. She felt around her body, and quickly located the Smith and Wesson that she had brought with her.

She turned the corner and saw her. Her target. The nameless person she had assassinated in cold blood. She trotted on and quickly found herself sneaking up on her. She had opted for sneakers this time. She couldn't afford being heard, something which would almost be assured if she was wearing a pair of ridiculous high heels that the CIA was so intent on providing for her time and again.

She slowly pulled the pistol out of her coat pocket. The script usually had her waiting for the mark, only to turn away at the last second, walking away and seeing her pick something up. At that point, she would turn, spin and fire the fatal bullet. But not this time. This time, she just wanted to get it over with, wake up and then cry herself back to sleep.

She lifted the pistol and pulled the trigger. The hammer clicked back on an empty round and she looked at the gun in confusion.

"It didn't work, did it?" she heard a very recognizable voice ask her.

"Chuck?"

"In the flesh," he replied, as he spun to face her, before approaching her with a toothy grin. "How are you doing?"

"What's going on? How are you here? What happened to my target?"

"You tell me."

He brushed past her, and his shoulder passed through her, as if he was an apparition. She turned as well, following his every movement. His steps were measured, smooth, and he never broke his stride. He was about to round the corner when he once again turned to look at her. "Follow me," he said and without knowing what was going on, her feet complied with his order and she found herself trailing through deserted streets. Chuck started whistling a happy tune as he cut through the fog.

They approached an old café and Chuck sat down on one of the chairs, before patting the other one. Sarah frowned. "What are we doing here?"

Chuck smiled. "Just sit down and take the load off."

Once again, her body complied without question and she found herself melting into the chair. Only then did she realize how tired she was. She dropped the pistol on the table next to them and she waited for him to speak.

"I don't think you really understands how this works," he smiled. "The gist of this is that I'm your subconscious. We can't really have a conversation. You can ask me questions if you'd like."

"Wouldn't you already know what questions I'm going to ask?"

"Of course I would. You already know how this conversation is going to go. All that's left is for you to begin."

"What happened to..."

"I replaced her. Or rather, _you_ did."

"But why..."

"Because you think that somehow you've killed an innocent."

"So if you're here, and you're in my subconscious, then I would know that I didn't kill an innocent, right?"

Chuck quirked an eyebrow. "I never said that you didn't kill an innocent person. I'm saying that you _think_ you did. And I'm inclined to agree."

"So then why did you take her place."

"Who knows," he replied and slowly but surely Sarah was beginning to lose her patience. "Oh c'mon, it's no fun if you get angry. Oh, has _Chuck_ seen you angry yet? I bet that he'd be terrified of you."

"I sort of snapped at him once," she mumbled. "But you obviously know this already."

"I know!" he cried. "Isn't it fun."

Sarah squinted her eyes. "Could you possibly enjoy this any more than you already are?"

Chuck shrugged. "Don't think so. I'm pretty sure that if I would, I'd start doing cartwheels."

"Okay, so you're obviously the twisted, demented part of my mind. There's no way the real Chuck would be like you."

Chuck grinned again. The smile was crooked but that didn't make it any less charming. Oh, and since when did she think it was charming?

"Since the moment you passed me on the street," he replied, his voice barely disguising the glee with which he was reading her every move. It unnerved her.

Sarah sighed. She was sick of this. All she wanted to do was wake up. "Okay, here's what I'm guessing. I'm guessing that I'm picturing you, because to me, you represent the pinnacle of innocence."

"Very good, agent Walker," Chuck grinned. "Been brushing up on our Freud, have we?"

"Wouldn't you know if I had?" she shot back.

"Touché."

"But, like I was saying. You represent innocence. Innocence which I took away when I shot that woman in cold blood that night. I'm guessing you're here to show me the error of my ways?"

The grin disappeared immediately, and was replaced by a sobered look. "Close. I'm here to make you realize that you did in fact shoot and kill an innocent person. You were... no, you _are_ Graham's lap dog. That's all you are, Sarah. You shot an innocent person just because someone else told you to. And to symbolize it, we're going to do it again. Right here, and right now." He brandished a clip of ammunition, and handed it to her. He stood up and Sarah felt like a spectator as she watched herself grab the clip, peer at it intently, before slamming it home and racking the chamber. She stood up herself and she followed him back through the maze that was Paris' back alleys, before returning to the scene of the crime.

He leaned against the balustrade that separated the water from the mainland and smiled at her again. "Aren't you supposed to change back into my target now?" she asked.

"Where would the fun in that be? If you don't mind, I'm going to stay right here. Now, agent Walker. Make it count."

Her arms lifted as if on autopilot and Sarah's eyes widened. Was she going to shoot Chuck? But that would be insanity. This was a dream. She was fully aware of the fact. Why couldn't she stop herself?

The bang echoed through her mind and she saw a red stain blooming on Chuck's shirt. He staggered over to her and collapsed against one of the cars, but before he closed his eyes, he looked up at her. "Knew you could do it."

She raised her pistol again and pulled the trigger.

**Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center  
>Saturday, December 18th, 2004<br>03:25**

Sarah jolted awake, her breathing heavy and labored and her skin soaked in perspiration. She couldn't help but blow a sigh of relief, although the inevitable tears started prickling in her eyes, as she felt like she was suffocating with grief. Had she really killed an innocent person? And was her subconscious right? Was she really nothing more than a lapdog for Graham?

Of course not. What she did had meaning, had value. She had stopped a lot of threats to the country already and she would continue to do so. One innocent death was a necessary risk. Sarah swallowed. She really didn't like thinking of humans as expendable, but if she didn't, she would probably end up losing her mind over the repercussions.

And just like that, the tears that she had tried to hold at bay dropped on her pillow. She hugged her knees to her chest and closed her eyes, praying that she could put the nasty thoughts back where they belonged. She tried to picture her father's face, disappointed with her, which did nothing to relieve the almost perpetual sadness in which she was wallowing. She tried to imagine Graham's voice, telling her that she did a good job on her mission and that the world was a safer place thanks to her.

It didn't help either.

A moan cut through her inner voices and shook her to her core. That was not the fun kind of moan. Her eyes flew open and she saw Chuck, his face scrunched up and in an obvious amount of discomfort. His mouth opened and closed a few times, before he seemingly found his voice.

"Please... please don't."

_What's that all about?_ She stepped out of bed and walked over to him, trying to find out what was wrong. Her attention was drawn to the ECG at the side of his bed. His heart rate was elevated. Not by a margin large enough to warrant medical attention, but it had a sufficient increase from what would be considered normal during sleeping.

"Just take the bag... leave me alone... No!" He sat up with a sudden movement and Sarah took an involuntary step backwards, before darting back to his side.

"Chuck, Chuck are you okay?"

"Huh... wha? Whass goin' on?" he asked, his voice laced with sleep. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand to clear out the eye gunk that had accumulated there. Luckily, the room was dark, so he wouldn't see the traces that the tears had left on her cheeks.

"You tell me," she replied, any remnant of her sadness well hidden behind the mask she had constructed. She had a good idea of what was going on, but she wanted to hear it, straight from the source.

"Just a... bad dream, that's all. Nothing to worry about."

"Mm," she skeptically replied.

"What?" he asked, his tone becoming rather defensive. "It's not like _you_ don't have any bad dreams. It happens."

"Right, but in _my_ bad dreams, I don't beg for my life. Now spill."

He sat up and faced her... except...

"I'm over here, Chuck."

His head snapped to the other side of the bed and she could imagine the goofy smile that would probably take over his face when he realized his mistake. "Look, it's no big deal. I uh... I may or may not have had a nightmare about being mugged, but it's no biggy... Really."

"Didn't sound like no big deal to me." Now this, she could do. Talking about herself was something she wasn't comfortable with. Extracting information, however? Please. She passed that class with flying colors. She had even gotten one of her teachers to crack and spill about an affair he had been having.

"Sarah, please. Just drop it, okay?"

Well, that closed down all her possible avenues. Chuck didn't want to talk about something. That was a surprise. In the short time she had known him, he had seemed up to talk about... anything, really. There were a few more ways of making them talk, but most of them involved her telling him, in a saccharine voice of course, that she knew over two-hundred ways to kill him. And she didn't think that informing him of that would go very well with her cover as an accountant. So for now, all she could do was sit in silence and wait for Chuck to come to his senses. Or...

"Chuck, you helped me when I had my issues... and I think it's only fair if I help you with yours." _Play on his overprotective senses. Good move, Walker._

"Do you still have them?"

Damn, she didn't see that one coming. "Well, sometimes. I mean, it's not like one little chat would erase all my problems."

"But?"

"Hey, stop trying to change this all on me. I wasn't the one that was moaning and pleading my nightmares not to stab me."

"Well, when you put it like that, it just makes me sound broken and messed up."

Sarah shrugged. "Then we're both a bit broken and messed up."

"Pff, you don't know the half of it," he whispered. Unfortunately for him, their close proximity to one another, coupled with the fact that her chosen profession involved a meticulous attention to detail, as well as the need to listen in on almost everything, anyone would say, meant that she heard him completely. Still, he had whispered it for a reason, so maybe it was better to play it off like she hadn't heard him.

"What was that?"

"I said, I could really go for a ham sandwich," Chuck covered.

"At four in the morning?" Sarah asked, an amused tone seeping into her voice.

Chuck shrugged. She couldn't quite see it, but the rustling of the covers implied as much. " I'll have you know that late night snacking is fantastic."

"That may be, but you're changing the subject." She knew. After all, she was a master at changing the subject. Convinced that Chuck wasn't going to go into spontaneous cardiac arrest, she backed away from the bed and went to her own, before sitting on it, Indian style.

"Fine, so I may or may not have a few issues with what happened. That's normal though... right?"

"Sure, but that doesn't mean that you shouldn't get some help for them. And I get that you don't immediately want to go to a shrink, but let me at least try and return the favor by helping you. Just talk to me. I've been told I'm a great listener." Of course, most of the listening was done through the use of tactically placed bugs, but that didn't make her statement any less valid.

He obviously contemplated her request, because he sat silently for a minute. Finally, he acquiesced. "On one condition though,"

"And what might that be?"

"That I in turn listen to you. Everyone needs to vent sometimes. It's only fair if we vent with each other. Isn't that what friends do? I mean, we _are_ technically friends now."

"Uh. I don't know... I guess?" she replied quizzically.

He smiled. Of course he did. "Great. Now then, let's hear it. What's—Oh, that's not how this is going to go Chuck Bartowski," she butted in. "You first."

"Fine," he sighed, sounding like a pouting child. The tone of his voice served to make the corners of her mouth tug up a bit.

He started telling her about his dreams, about his fears and how the events played out in his mind's eye. How he couldn't stop reliving the moment the blade entered his body, over and over again. Sarah asked a few questions, but for the most part stayed quiet, letting him vent, while he spoke to her about his feelings and his insecurities.

In turn, Chuck sat and listened as Sarah recounted her dream—obviously edited with regards to her cover profession—and relaying in him, her fears, the one she had been too afraid to admit to the CIA psychiatrists. The ones that, had she told them to the shrinks would've immediately led to her dismissal on grounds of mental instability. And where would she be then? Lost and alone in a world which she only used to traverse under the guise of being someone else. Trapped in a never-ending cycle of conning other people and conning herself into believing she was happy.

She wasn't completely sure whether she wanted to stay with the Agency because it made her happy, or because it gave her a purpose in life. Probably both.

Eventually, her eyelids started to droop and Chuck's voice slowly receded into the background as she felt her consciousness starting to slip. She called out a weak 'good night,' before succumbing to the inevitable darkness. Her dreams were filled with something different now. There were no tears anymore, and her thoughts were occupied by the amazing person she had discovered through sheer luck. And she realized that she had gained another friend. Another person who could offer her a sanctum of stability amidst the chaos of the day to day lives of international espionage.

The worst part, was the fact that she knew she couldn't keep him.

**Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center  
>Tuesday, December 21th, 2004<br>08:45**

Almost on the dot, the door opened and the physical therapist entered the room, dragging a wheelchair along with her. Sarah rubbed her eyes as she adjusted to the daylight and sat up. Modesty had stopped being a part of her everyday life since joining the CIA, so the fact that she was clad in just a set of bra and panties didn't bother her. It didn't seem to do a whole lot for the physical therapist, although granted, that could have something to do with the fact that she was a woman. However, the fact that she had been by Chuck's side for the past week now, still didn't stop him having an obvious reaction to her state of undress, and inwardly she had to smile. It was nice to know she could still give him a small thrill, considering he had been holed up in the hospital for the past week. All the people at the Agency who said she was Frosty the snow-bitch, who only cared about promotion and nothing else could suck it.

The three days since their chat had flown by. Ellie, Morgan and Devon had visited every day—like she expected—and time had passed at an astonishing rate. Chuck had finally been cleared to start his physical therapy, which would start today. Truth be told, she both looked forward, as well as dreaded the moment that he would start. Because it would spell the beginning of the end. He would revalidate before going back to Los Angeles and she'd move back to wherever the CIA needed her, becoming whoever they needed her to be. And although she slowly but surely opened herself up to Chuck, she couldn't risk letting him see the true her. Because if he were to know the real her, he'd see glimpses of the con that she had been pulling on him. Granted, this con wasn't as elaborate and damaging as the ones she used to pull with her father, but how could she look him in the eye and tell him that she killed people? She couldn't, and the best thing for both of them was to never speak to him again. But she would deal with that later. That's how she always did it. Things that would gnaw at her would be stowed away and dealt with in due time, when no one could see her and the broken girl would appear in place of the stoic woman that she so often portrayed.

"Ready for PT, Mr. Bartowski?" the therapist asked.

"Oh... um... sure, yeah, I guess," he replied, a hesitant tone in his voice.

"What's the matter, Chuck? Don't you want to get better?"

"Sure... but I mean, it's going to be really awkward. I mean, I've seen this on TV plenty of times. And it's not like you guys have a Bacta tank stored around here somewhere, so we'll have to do it the old-fashioned way. I'm just... I dunno... nervous?"

"Don't worry Mr. Bartowski. You're in good hands here. Now, since you haven't been out of order for that long, we'll start with some exercises on the parallel bars, just so that you can get a feel for the whole walking thing again."

She helped him out of bed and he all but collapsed into the wheelchair with a groan. Sarah's lips were taut, not a single emotion breaking through. She couldn't for the life of her understand why Chuck was nervous, or what he could possibly be nervous about. It was just PT.

As the therapist pushed him out of the room, Sarah walked behind them. She had texted Ellie about what was going on, but she hadn't received a reply yet. She figured that they were still asleep. Not that Sarah could blame them. She'd be okay with grabbing a few extra winks as well.

They rounded the corner before walking through the main hall. Chuck was uncharacteristically quiet during the trip. Normally, he'd talk about... anything really. She hadn't really had a day where Chuck had ever shut his mouth for longer than ten minutes. To see this change in him was weird. She'd even call it disheartening, but everyone was allowed to have off days. Who was she to condemn him for having one?

They pushed through the door separating them from the training hall. Inside the actual hall, machines and bars, as well as therapy jet-pools completely filled the room. There was some walking room, but not a whole lot.

"Interesting decor," Chuck finally said and Sarah stifled a laugh, but a small smile broke through nonetheless. That was more like it. The therapist however, refused to pay any attention to him.

"Now then, Mr. Bartowski. Let's get started. Today, we won't be doing a whole lot. Just a couple of exercises with the bending of your legs and a few feet on the parallel bars. Shall we get started?"

"Uh... okay, I guess," he replied, before hooking his arms around the neck of his therapist and hoisting himself up. He grabbed the bars with his hands and tried to remain upright. The shiver that tore through his body told Sarah that he was having plenty of trouble with it.

She stayed and watched as the therapist and Chuck inched forward while taking baby steps, and she saw the perspiration form on his head. She thought back to her own revalidation. It had hurt and she couldn't help the stab of sympathy she felt for him, as she saw him struggle with something that for someone of his age should've come naturally. It was one of the worst feelings she had ever experienced. The helplessness... the inability to take care of yourself.

"You're doing great, Chuck," she had told him in an effort to cheer him up. All she had was the CIA sanctioned PT, who seemed to adopt more of a 'shout to motivate' method. She remembered that the only thing it helped motivating, was her desire to grab one of her knives and stab the man. Repeatedly.

The session, after thirty minutes of moving around, slowly wound down.

"All right Mr. Bartowski. That's enough for today. You did very well. You should be proud of yourself."

But instead of responding, his features hardened and he took on a determined gaze. "I want to try walking on my own."

"Mr. Bartowski, you're not fit enough for that yet. Walking without help can come in due time. And besides, you have to be exhausted. It's better if we just call it a day."

"No, I'm not tired yet. Just... please, let me try on my own," he pleaded with her.

The therapist sighed. "Fine, but I highly recommend you just call it a day. You've done more than enough Mr. Bartowski, you shouldn't rush your recovery."

Chuck shrugged before inching to the end of the parallel bars and releasing the grips. He steadied himself, before taking a deep breath. He put a tentative step forward, before his legs collapsed and he fell to the ground. "Fuck!" he shouted, and the expletive stunned Sarah. She had never heard him use one in their entire time together, although granted it wasn't very long. Still, she rushed to his side and helped him up, but he shrugged her off. "Go away, Sarah."

"What?" she asked. Surely, he was kidding right?

"I knew this was a bad idea. Look, do us both a favor and go back to where you belong. You shouldn't waste your time being around me. You're obviously meant to do great things in accounting, and instead you're wasting away sitting here with me. Just go, okay?" He clenched his fists and pounded the floor in anger. "God damn it!"

Sarah backed off. What should she do? He obviously didn't want her there, but... she still had an innate need to be there. But then she wouldn't respect his wishes. She knew what she had to do. He had said so herself. It was time for her to go back to where she belonged. But when she walked to the door, she was stopped by the therapist.

"Don't take it personal dear. He doesn't know what he's saying."

But the sad truth was, he did know what he was saying. She saw it in his eyes. Fear, masked by anger. "No," she replied. "No, he's right."

She stumbled out of the room, before speed-walking back to his room, managing to not break into a sprint but only just, before grabbing her duffel bag and wildly throwing her clothes in it, only just managing to keep a lid on the cauldron of emotions that was swirling through her entire being. Without looking back, she walked to the doors and into the cold that Washington provided on this particular morning.

She hailed a cab and got in, before relaying her address and closing her eyes. She felt like crying, but if there was one thing she wasn't going to do, it was breaking down in tears.

She hated herself for letting him have so much influence over her. So she closed her eyes and waited until she was exactly where Chuck told her to go.

Back to where she belonged.

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><p><strong>AN2: **And that's it for the story. There's an epilogue to follow, but th... wait, I can't do this with a straight face. We're almost at the end people, but this most definitely isn't it. Anyway, yeah, hope you enjoyed and let's get up to 160 (more is always appreciated, of course!) reviews. Because I love my review number to be round like that. YAY 160!


	8. The Pining, part I

**A/N: **So, this update took a while. This was originally going to be the second half of the seventh chapter, but I hadn't released anything in a while (plus I recently became ill with the flu. It's kicking my ass at the moment and all I want to do is crawl in bed and wait for it to pass, but alas) and I just knew that the second half of THIS chapter (which was the second half of chapter 7... yes it's confusing :P) would take a while before I could write that. So here's a (small) update to hopefully re-pique your interest. Hope you enjoy. Also, hidden within this chapter is an experiment. I can't wait to see the results of that.

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Chuck. Big surprise, I know.

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><p><strong>The Good Samaritan, Chapter 8<br>The Pining, part I  
><strong>

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><p><strong>Sarah's apartment, Washington D.C.<strong>**  
>Tuesday, December 21st, 2004<br>13:08**

Sarah dropped down on her chair, her hand finding the remote with remarkable ease. She clicked her TV on and settled down for a few hours of relaxing television. After that, she'd go work out before settling in for a nice bubble bath, followed by some dinner and eventually succumbing to sleep. After that, she'd make the call to Graham and go to Poland, or wherever they needed her. Chuck was right. This was what she was born for. And it felt like heaven.

Except of course for the fact that she had actually turned her head three times to say something to Chuck, even though her place was empty.

The more time she spent alone, the more she realized how much she had grown to depend on him. Which in itself was insanity. It was a week since she met him. This wasn't normal. Granted, Sarah Walker did not do normal, probably couldn't even do normal, but that was besides the point. The point was that she was captivated by him. Her subconscious had pretty much spelled it out for her.

With a dissatisfied grunt, she turned off the TV. She turned around to quip about how much daytime TV sucked, only to find a potted plant where Chuck was supposed to be. This was ridiculous. She was a spy, for crying out loud. She grabbed the remote again and with a look of pure contempt switched back to a talk show that involved overweight people crying as some kind of bald-headed doctor asked them how it made them feel. Sarah rolled her eyes. Daytime TV _really_ sucked.

The moment that the doctor had closed with some kind of profound wisdom that Sarah was sure would help a lot of people but definitely not her, she clicked off the TV and walked to her bedroom. She picked up her bag and threw in her workout clothes. She needed this. Just like when she left her mother to go with her father on adventures, she needed to keep herself occupied until the memories faded away to the background. In the past that meant conning. Nowadays it meant working out until her muscles started getting their own muscles. `

She cleared out of her apartment and walked down the steps, before hitting the sidewalk and whistling over a cab. The cabbie leered at her for a few seconds, but not long enough to consider maybe inflicting bodily harm. It wasn't her fault she looked good, damn it. Okay, well, maybe a little, but you'd think that people would learn when staring was and wasn't appropriate. Chuck would never... _Oh-ho-ho, so not going there,_ her mind chided her.

She gave him the address to the gym and off they went. Usually, Sarah would walk but she was in no mood to do so today. The sooner she could have a few rounds on the heavy bag, the sooner she'd be able to put this all behind her. The engine hummed as they drove the long route, and Sarah rolled her eyes. "You do know it's not smart to take the long route, when your passenger actually knows the city, right?"

"Sorry ma'am, I have to earn my keep."

"Fine, whatever," she huffed. She just wanted to pound some leather, damn it. Not play sight-seeing with a greasy cab driver. Okay, maybe she was being overly vindictive right now, but she was allowed her days of frustration. Those days where all the emotions were magnified and everything just boiled over into one endless swirl of anger, frustration and melancholy. And today was just one of those days. She was certain it had nothing to do with that... that guy and... Oh to hell with it. This _was_ Chuck's fault damn it. He had gotten under her skin. She had allowed him in and he had taken advantage of that. This was exactly the reason why her dad had taught her to close herself off.

_"If you don't let anyone in, they can never hurt you, pumpkin,"_ he had told her. Maybe it wasn't the most sound of parenting advice, but it was a wise lesson nonetheless. And so far she had done a stellar job of keeping people out. And the first person she let in—not that she planned this, of course—took it for granted. Tossed her out like she was some piece of trash.

If she hadn't before, she could really use that heavy bag right about now.

**24 Hour Fitness  
><strong>**Tuesday, December 21st, 2004  
>14:05<strong>

_Oof!_

The exhalation of air was in perfect sync with the fist that swung towards the bag, connecting with the leather at an impressive speed as well as being accompanied by a dull sound. The bag lazily swung like a pendulum, before being met by a vicious back-heel.

Sarah tip-toed around the bag and kept prodding it with gentle fists, before launching into vicious hooks. An enemy operative wouldn't stand a chance. It made her feel powerful. It made her forget the weakness that had been on display ever since those mocha-colored eyes regarded her for the first time. The weakness that had been there when he spoke to her in that gravelly baritone voice of his, with the sincerest expression any person had ever thrown at her. Damn it, he was like a small puppy that you just wanted to take home and pet and cuddle and do all kinds of mushy stuff with that would be perfectly at home with a girly girl with girly feelings, but not at all with the bad ass super spy persona that she was going for.

And that, understandably, frustrated Sarah Walker, Intelligence Officer extraordinaire, codename The Enforcer.

The chain holding the bag up kept clinging and clanging and the exertion caused a sheen of sweat to break out over her. Her breathing grew shallow and she eased down on the tension that had strained her muscles for the past twenty minutes. She gave one final whack before walking back to the bench where she had thrown her bags, and draining half of her water bottle in one major sip.

It was then that she realized that she wasn't okay with this damn it. He didn't even give her an explanation, he just told her to get lost. Not only was it a blow to the ego—who would ever tell her to leave, right?—but it also caused a foreign emotion to course through her. An emotion that should've been subdued thanks to months of training and conditioning courtesy of the Agency. She couldn't quite label it, but it felt very similar to the feeling she dreaded ever since she had first ran off with her father to try and con the middle-class out of their hard earned savings. Rejection.

And that's when she decided that Chuck Bartowski would not have the last word. She was going to go over there and give him a piece of her mind.

With a new resolve, she ran to the dressing rooms, changed and ran out, only stopping to give a quick wave to Paul who looked at her like she had lost her mind. Who knew? Maybe she had. But now, Agent Sarah Walker was on a mission. And she _always_ completed her missions.

**Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center****  
>Tuesday, December 21st, 2004<br>15:20**

She all but stormed through the hospital, her eyes blazing. She hadn't figured she would have this kind of a reaction to it, but the man had dismissed her. Dismissed. Her. No one but the director of the CIA was allowed to dismiss Sarah Walker damn it. Especially not a man. And if she was honest, she was pissed. She had been nothing but nice to the man and he sent her away like he didn't care. No wonder all people were inherently assholes who were only out for their own gain.

Yeah, she was going to rip Chuck Bartowski a new one.

She rounded the corner of the hallway and came face to face with the door of his room. She all but ran to the door and burst through, but recoiled when she found the entire room dark, Chuck's form on the bed clutching his knees to his chest. The untamed curls fell lifeless over his head and for all intents and purposes, he looked thoroughly miserable. He looked at her and the glimmer that was so prevalent in all the times she had seen him was completely gone. The only thing his eyes reflected now, was the light coming from the hallway. She wouldn't quite say his eyes were dead, but they certainly weren't full of life anymore.

The anger she felt melted away and the words that she had been so eager to express died on her lips. Instead, all that came out was, "Are you okay?"

He shook his head and averted his gaze from her, a regretful look plastering itself on his face. "I've been an ass," he muttered.

"Why?" she asked. It wasn't as eloquent as she had wanted to be, but practicality trumped eloquence at this point. Besides, if she was as 'eloquent' as she wanted to be, she figured that Chuck might spontaneously burst into tears. She was frustrated, not malevolent.

He looked at her and his face was in a grimace. "Because... I..."

Sarah sighed. "Because what?"

"BecauseIwantedtoimpressyou," he blurted out, before falling down on his bed, groaning. "I can't believe I said that."

"You want to... huh?"

He sighed and dragged a hand over his face. Sarah couldn't help but notice that with the frown in place he looked much older than he should. Like he had been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders for the last couple of months. "Look, it's no secret that I think you're amazing. After all..." He chuckled. "...you did save my life, so that automatically puts you on the same level as Batman and Spiderman. And I figured that you... I don't know... I figured you could come to respect me and maybe even... be impressed if I could instantly walk again without aid. And when I couldn't, I just felt like a failure. Like I failed myself, Ellie, but most importantly, you. And I couldn't handle you pitying me... I couldn't handle you looking at me like I was weak. So I freaked and I acted like an immature jackass." He gazes at the covers and idly plays with one of the corners, akin to when Sarah herself was sorry for something she did and her mother lectured her. "I'm sorry."

She wanted to tell him that he didn't have to do anything to impress her. That she was already impressed enough by the things he'd done, by his attitude towards life in general, about how she'd never felt as hurt in her entire life than when he dismissed her. But she couldn't. All she said was, "Chuck, almost no one can instantly walk again. It's a process. You shouldn't overdo it."

His head shot up. "Huh? Shouldn't you, I don't know, scream at me for being a tool? A jackass maybe? Because you'd be well within your right to do so."

"I'm good, thank you."

"So does that mean I'm forgiven?" The puppy-dog eyes were in full effect, but they didn't do much to her this time around. He had hurt her a lot, and his reasoning, while sweet, was still somewhat weak. But she realized that maybe it wouldn't be such a horrible idea to forgive him. Maybe it wouldn't be a horrible idea to spend just a few more days with him and they could break on amicable terms.

And maybe living in denial wasn't the healthiest thing that she could do.

She shook her head to get rid of the unwanted thoughts and looked at him, before breaking into a sly—and fabricated—grin. "Yes Chuck, that means you're forgiven. I have to warn you though. No more trying to impress me. I want to see you up and about soon, rather than seeing you crawl into bed because you pushed yourself too hard, okay?"

Chuck eagerly nodded his head, the spark in his eyes returning and the curls bouncing around vibrantly. "Yes ma'am," he eagerly replied. Sarah smiled. Maybe confronting this issue wasn't the worst idea in the world after all.

She just hoped they both wouldn't grow too attached to one another before the inevitable parting.

But then again, who was she kidding anyway?

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><p><strong>AN2**: So yeah, that solves the cliffhanger from the previous chapter. Hopefully it was to everyone's satisfaction. I'll hopefully see you guys soon, but for now, I'm going to crawl into bed and hope that I'll feel slightly better tomorrow than I do now. It would be a major win in my book.


	9. The Pining, part II

**A/N**: Hi there. It's me. This chapter took a while to prepare, mostly because I had a lot of other commitments, but I got it out and this means we're one chapter closer to the end. So yay.

Thank you to ALL the reviewers, favoriters and alerters for making this story much more fun to write. Without you, this story wouldn't have been possible. Well, it would've been possible, but you guys make it a lot more fun to actually commit to the project. So hooray to you! Also, a lot of thanks to all the well-wishers, both for my health and the Awesome Awards. The voting's closed now, but to anyone that's voted for me, a thousand times 'Thank you!'

This chapter was beta-ed (beta'd?) by the wonderful **ShinyJayne20** and she made sure that the poor sentence structure and silly choices that were rather prevalent throughout this chapter got ironed out. If you think to yourself: "Hey, the sentences flow pretty well" that's all her. This is a fact.

**Disclaimer: **Didn't own Chuck. Still don't now. Conflicted about whether I would make a movie if I did own it.

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><p><strong>The Good Samaritan, Chapter 9<br>The Pining, part II**

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><p><strong>Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center<br>Wednesday, December 22nd, 2004  
>12:00<strong>

Chuck was happily munching away on a sandwich, when a pensive frown came over his face. Sarah, who had been reading a magazine—she was amazed at how ridiculously interesting celebrities' lives truly were—noticed from the corner of her eye, causing her to look over.

Ellie, who had some kind of radar built in that was fine-tuned to Chuck's emotional status, dropped her own magazine. Morgan kept drinking his grape juice, but Sarah wasn't surprised about that. Nothing could deter that man from his juice. And Devon, well, he was too busy working out in the gym to worry with something as trivial as lunch. Or, as he had told them, he'd 'end up fixing himself an awesome shake anyway.'

So, two sets of eyes curiously regarded the frown that passed over Chuck. Truth be told, he looked a bit constipated, not that she'd tell him that, _ever._ But still.

Sarah finally broke the silence. "Chuck, what's wrong?"

His frown deepened. "I haven't said I was sorry to you yet."

"Sure you have," she replied. "You've apologized like, twice yesterday."

"Right, but not today."

_Oh you've got to be kidding me. _"Chuck, that's really sweet, but not at all necessary."

"Of course it is. I acted like a jerk and I think you deserve enough apologies from me alone to last you lifetime. Or of course, until the time comes when you hit me over the head to make me stop…whichever comes first." He stopped rambling to find Sarah looking at him with a bemused expression. "So, here it is: Sarah Walker, I am so very, very sorry for acting like a jackass."

Smiling, she nodded. "For the millionth time, Apology accepted Chuck... seriously this is the last time I'm going to say that. Or else I _will _hit you."

Satisfied with her response, Chuck's brooding demeanor shifted to ease; munching on his sandwich happily. Even though she jokingly threatened him to quit it, she secretly knew that this wouldn't be the last time she'd hear him apologize. It was eye roll worthy, but kind of sweet in a twisted sort of way she supposed.

It was nice to be acknowledged, finding that there were some people left in this world that cared enough to apologize. Even if she _had _forgiven him for behaving like a total jerk… well sort of. It was semantics anyways. She accepted his plethora of apologizes, and was fine enough to resume her daily activities. Said activities centered mostly around him—listening, talking, laughing with him—and that in itself was a really sad testament to her own life. She missed all of those things after Chuck had told her off subsequent to taking that awful break away from each other.

Apparently that wasn't enough for him. Sarah couldn't just accept that sometimes guys acted like morons and move on. No, Chuck wanted her to completely and utterly forgive him. She'd do it soon, but not today.

Sarah blew the wisps of hair that gone rogue, out of her face and continued to read, the ghost of a smile on her lips.

**Physical therapy room, Washington Hospital Center  
>Wednesday, December 29th, 2004<br>14:58**

"Alright Chuck, that's more than enough. You're doing amazing," the therapist called. Her name was Linda, as Sarah found out during the afternoon session, and apparently they were now on first name terms too.

The older woman looked towards Sarah and the passion and enthusiasm for Chuck's progress seemed almost real... Hell, it _was. _She gave a tight-lipped smile in return, governed by her excitement as well. This was it. The end was coming, and fast. His movement had returned pretty much all the way and that would mean that soon... soon it'd be over. She swallowed.

"Well done, Chuck," Sarah congratulated him. He seemed pleased with himself, if that grin of his was any indication. "You've made amazing progress!" Okay, so maybe that was a small lie. His progress had been average at best, but he didn't have to know that.

"Thanks. I actually feel pretty great."

"Would you like trying to wash up by yourself this time?" the PT asked.

Chuck blushed, which caused Sarah to stifle a chuckle. She figured he'd be over the whole being bashful thing. If she was honest, he wasn't even that bad in the physique department. There was always room for improvement, and that could be easily rectified with some training courtesy of her…

_Oh shit._

What was wrong with her? That was a horrible thought to consider, especially at this particular juncture, or hell, ever. Because as much as her heart tried to rebel and stage a coup against her brain, she knew there wouldn't be a quick, clean resolution. No, her logical half told her that it was impossible for her and Chuck to be anything more than they were. They were from two different worlds, worlds that weren't supposed to collide. The fallout that'd result from their cataclysm would be unfathomable. Spies and nerds didn't mix, unless the latter was an analyst. And even then, they were supposed to be physically apart, communicating via tactical headsets, ear-buds and other assorted spy gadgetry.

That's why Sarah found herself hoping that Chuck wouldn't try to make a move. She couldn't stand the thought of breaking his heart. It'd crush him. But maybe, maybe she'd been misreading the signs. There was a chance that Chuck wasn't even into her at all.

Unknowingly she held in her breath, and glanced over her shoulder to find Chuck staring back with a look full of adoration.

Damn.

With a smile, he disappeared into the bathroom stalls and Sarah was left in an amicable silence. Linda remained in the room alongside her, looking proud of Chuck's accomplishments. The two of them had bonded over Chuck, it seemed.

"It's nice to see such a devoted girlfriend," Linda piped up suddenly. "You don't see much of those anymore."

Sarah inwardly grimaced. _She just had to ruin the silence._

"Thanks," she said, adding. "But he's not my boyfriend."

This caused the woman's eyebrows to rise. "Oh, well you two look nothing alike. I don't remember Chuck saying he had another sister."

"I'm not his sister either."

"Cousin?" asked the PT.

"Nope."

"So then, what exactly are you?"

"Um... he calls me his guardian angel," she admitted with a shrug and a small blush. Throwing that term around willy-nilly still felt odd.

"Oh," she said, her eyes widening. Realization dawned in her eyes. "So you're the one that the staff's been talking about."

"They've been talking about me?"

"Oh, don't worry," Linda smiled. "It's just, a woman like you and a guy like him that hang around each other like that, people start talking."

"Oh, well, sorry to disappoint, but there's nothing going on."

Linda shrugged. "That's a shame. You'd be a cute couple. Why exactly aren't you a couple by the way? I mean, if those looks he's been giving you are any indication, I'd say that he wouldn't at all be opposed to the idea."

"It's... complicated," explained Sarah lamely. "I guess would be the best way to describe it."

"Let me guess, you're a high priced call-girl and he's the client that's madly in love with you?"

"Excuse me?" she asked confusedly.

"Oh, no, wait, I've got it." The therapist snapped her fingers. "You're the heiress to an empire and he's the lonely servant from the lower class."

"Are you alright?"

"Oh, no, no, you're a secret agent and he's a computer repairman, caught in a web of lies and secrets through no fault of his own and you end up falling for each other despite the trials and tribulations of past lovers, nasty secrets and horrible misgivings that are thrown in your path!"

Sarah blinked. That was awfully specific. And not that far from the truth either. Well, the first part anyway. She squinted her eyes. "You wouldn't happen to be interested in my copy of the National Enquirer, would you?"

"Been a subscriber for the past ten years," she stated with pride in her voice.

"Of course you are," Sarah sighed. "By the way, would you say that Chuck is fully healed now?"

Linda shrugged. "He can walk again, so as far as I'm concerned, he is. He'll probably want to use a cane or a walker for a while though. Just until his muscle mass is fully adjusted to long bouts of movement."

"So, I could say, take him to see the sights tomorrow, right?"

"I don't know," she replied honestly. "That's not up to me. But between you and me, I'm sure you can."

Sarah nodded her thanks and started tapping her foot. The urge to burst into the washroom and check up on how Chuck was doing became overwhelming. Several short moments later, and he returned. He looked a lot better than before. His face was still flushed from exertion, but it wasn't as red as it was a few minutes ago.

"Ready to go?" asked Sarah, smiling.

"Sure," he replied and they walked out of the room, Chuck's infectious smile playing on both their lips.

Sarah couldn't help but feel a pit of ice forming in her stomach though. The words of the physical therapist replayed in her mind. '_He wouldn't at all be opposed to the idea.' _ She gave him a sidelong glance, noting how much healthier he had appeared. Healthier than she'd ever seen him considering they initially met when he was at death's door. Now she found herself wishing to be strong enough to walk away from him, before he could get a word in.

The longer they walked, the longer she grew to hate herself. She was setting up both her and Chuck for heartbreak and she wasn't doing a single thing to stop it.

She sighed.

This really sucked.

**Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center  
>Wednesday, December 30th, 2004<br>21:45**

"That was awesome, Sarah!" Devon's voice boomed excitedly as they walked inside, still laughing at the frankly ridiculous day they had spend touring the sights of Washington D.C.

Sarah had toured the Capital more times than she could count; one of the pitfalls of being a Secret Service agent for a year she supposed, but the Bartowski family plus companions had a way of making it seem appealing and refreshing. The almost perpetual look of wonder on Chuck's face, reminiscent of a child in a candy store, didn't hurt either. And she got to observe him in his natural nerdy habitat, which made him sound more like a zoo attraction than an actual human being, but it still fit.

She was suddenly immersed in his life; listening to him have inane conversations with Morgan, have man-to -man talks with Devon, and have that good ole sibling rivalry with Ellie, although that was played for giggles more often than not.

And the best part of it all was that they included her.

She had been integrated into the family like she'd been part of it the entire time. Her, a spy through and through, a supposed ghost with no real ties. With the ability to become anyone, do anything, she was thoroughly content with just being herself at DC, among this crazy mixture of personalities.

The tour moved along seamlessly. The feeling of belonging and genuine comfortableness hung with her, as she'd guide the group through the city. She knew everything—having memorized the speech given from previous tour guides—and regurgitated all of the historical facts for each building and monument they passed. Overall, it was a fun day

The only fault she could find was Chuck having to rely on a walker. But after the mandatory quip about her fake surname (which she saw coming from a mile away), his face lit up into that of his trademark megawatt grin, and that was that.

Chuck nodded furiously, concurring with Captain Awesome. "This was much better than if I had to go by myself. I probably would've gotten lost," he joked lightly. "Thanks for being here with us, Sarah."

Sarah nodded. "You're welcome Chuck."

She knew full well by his tone of how sincere he was, and it wasn't just because of the free tour of Washington DC.

The night dragged on and as the loving couple and Morgan said their respective goodbyes, an ominous feeling crept up on Sarah. It was a strange foreign sensation, like she wouldn't ever attain a sliver of the same happiness she'd felt today. So chilling that it'd make it impossible to close her eyes and fall asleep. That feeling caused her to commit his face to memory, as if scared she'd never see it again.

A weird, inexplicable sense… no, a premonition.

**Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center  
>Friday, December 31st, 2004<br>08:30**

Doctor Spencer walked in with a giant smile on his face. "Good news, Mr. Bartowski. You will be allowed to go home tomorrow. We have your discharge papers right here." He waved the manila folder in front of Chuck, who resembled a boy on Christmas morning. Sarah felt her gut tighten habitually.

This was really it.

This was what it all came down to, wasn't it? He was going to go home and she was going to stay.

Sarah shut her eyes, as though the world suddenly stopped spinning. The doctor seemed to be walking in slow motion, as each step brought him closer to the end. As a last ditch effort to save her from further distress, her brain assured her that this was going to be alright. She'd been worked up over nothing, and Chuck appreciated her as a friend. Just friends. Not potential lovers.

Toying with this idea both elated and infuriated her at the same time. Lord knew she had given thought to it, even if she had refused to give it a name. The world seemingly resumed its normal pace and she focused her attention on Chuck, deciphering his facial features. She couldn't afford misreading him, not now. If there was any way they would get out of this without heartbreak, she'd take it in a heartbeat.

He cried, "Gimme!" before shooting Sarah a look of happiness, and she didn't have to be a master of reading faces to recognize the second emotion: hope. She knew what he was hoping for. She also knew that it was the one thing in this world that she couldn't give him either.

Her shoulders sagged in defeat. "Oh no…" she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Just like that, Sarah's own bubble of happiness popped.

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><p><strong>AN 2: **If you want to kill me, either wait on the chapter after the next one or make it fast! Thanks in advance :P

Please review (this if you want to threaten my life or inform me of a chapter well done). Hate mail is appreciated, although not recommended. Human conditioning and all that!


	10. The Deserting

**A/N: **Sweet mother of God, I actually won Best New Author. That's amazing! Thank you so, SO much to everyone that's voted for me. It's truly an amazing honor.

So, first thing's first: finishing this chapter marks the first multi chapter story I've finished. There is one more chapter after this (and a possible epilogue) but I finished writing that chapter over four months ago. I'll leave the sappy reminiscing until the next chapter, but let's just say, it feels pretty darn good.

At first I thought this chapter was going to be super angsty... It's actually like diet angst. So there's that.

Thank you to all the readers, reviewers and voters. I hope you enjoy this chapter (and if you don't, don't worry there's still one more twist to this tale). Special thanks go out to **ShinyJayne20** who is, per the usual really, one of the most awesome people I've had the good fortune of meeting through this medium. Nat, you rock, you truly do and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Chuck. I do own a little statue of Captain Awesome flexing his muscles. At least, that's what the award looks like in my mind's eye. Sadly, it serves to make me feel inferior. Damn him and his awesomeness

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><p><strong>The Good Samaritan, Chapter 10<br>The Deserting**

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><p><strong>Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center<br>Friday, December 31st, 2004  
>08:32<strong>

Her heart was beating too fast for her chest. She was sure it would break right through her ribcage, it was thumping that hard. Was this what a panic attack was like? She couldn't remember ever feeling this... trapped. She looked around the room but her gaze kept getting pulled to that deliriously happy face of his. She managed a feeble smile in return but all she wanted... no, all she needed was to get the hell out of there.

"I'm... I'm going to get some breakfast," she said, her tongue seemingly too large for her mouth. It seemed as if the entire English language had evaporated and all that remained were excuses and avoidances. He nodded vigorously and she thought she heard him ask if she could bring him a donut, but she couldn't be sure. She walked out, keeping a straight posture, but the moment she had turned the corner, the façade fell. Her knees felt too weak to carry her and she struggled to remain upright. Her breathing sped up and she was forced to sit down. She put her head between her knees, trying to focus on her breathing, but it wouldn't slow down. For the first time in her life, Sarah Walker didn't know what to do, wasn't thinking rationally. She felt her years of training slip past her. No amount of training could offer comfort for the feelings that coursed through her entire being right now. She was scared and in pain. But the worst part was that it wasn't physical pain. Physical pain she could deal with.

No, this cut deeper. This was like seeing her dad carted off. This was realizing that after this day, everything would be worse.

She only noticed the nurse when she was forcibly lifted up and looked the woman straight in the eye. Her hand reflexively shot towards her hair. The pins might not have been dipped in any chemicals like usual, but they still did a mean job in pinning someone to the wall, especially when they got thrust hard enough. She stilled her movement at the last second and managed to turn the gesture into a graceful swipe of her hair. Her breathing stilled and words broke through the fog.

"I'll go get you a paper bag."

_Why are you getting me a paper bag?_ _Crap, I was supposed to say that out loud._ Try as she might, the words didn't spill out and she sat there, damn near catatonic as the woman rushed out and came bag with a bag. She forcefully put it in Sarah's hands and her hands automatically lifted the bag to her mouth. She felt the panic bleed away, her mind becoming clearer with every breath taken. The nurse was rubbing her back in a comforting fashion and when she felt ready, she nodded to the nurse. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," the woman said. "Are you sure you're okay."

Sarah swallowed. "I will be."

The nurse stood up and left, leaving Sarah alone with her thoughts. It was obvious what had to be done. She had to get the hell out of there.

She all but took off in a dash, zigzagging her way through corridors, the bland paintings reduced to a blur. She only saw the revolving door, her beacon of hope, as much as the dull dreariness, and perpetually fading lines between good and evil could be considered hope. The sunlight filtered through the glass windows, bathing the exit in an ethereal glow and she was so close to reaching it. Her hand stretched out when she heard a familiar voice calling her name.

"Hi Sarah," Ellie said, a bit too perky for Sarah's taste. "What's up?"

Sarah cursed her luck. Of course the woman had to be there. Of course they had to intercept her. "I uh..." What was she supposed to say? 'Your brother wants a relationship with me and I'm running away because guess what, I'm a spy and by associating yourself with me, you're talking to a liar, a thief, a murderer, all in the name of a government. Oh, and here's the kicker, enemies might use you to get to me. I'm such a good influence for him.' She wanted to kick something, or someone, at the injustice of it all. Why the hell had she stayed? Why couldn't she just sever ties?

Then again, she'd always had severe abandonment issues, so she wasn't too shocked by the fact that she clung to any kind of connection.

"I'm going to get some fresh air," she said. She figured if she could get out of their sight, she could make a clean break for it.

"Oh, awesome, I'm going to join you," Devon said. Sarah felt like clawing her hair out, but she kept a stoic face.

"Great, let's go."

They walked outside and Sarah split up from Devon as she veered to one of the ashtrays, at which a group of people was standing around chatting amicably.

"Hi... uh... I wanted to know whether I could be so rude as to ask for a cigarette. I could really... really use it right about now," she said, her voice quivering. The group spared her a sympathetic look, obviously thinking that maybe a relative had passed or something, and a large man with a scruffy beard gave her one, as well as a box of matches. She quickly lit it and thanked the group before stalking back to Devon, who was looking at her like she had grown a second head.

"You smoke?"

"On special occasions, yeah," she replied.

"Oh yeah, considering the Chuckster is leaving tomorrow and all. I can see how that would bum you out. I mean, don't get me wrong, but you've been acting more like a doting girlfriend than an acquaintance. Not that I'm saying you can't act how you want, I'm just saying it doesn't really fit with the vibe you've been trying to give off."

She inhaled deeply and the pleasant burn filled her lungs. She felt the nicotine seep into her bloodstream, although that was probably her imagination rather than actually feeling it happen, and slowly but surely, the panic dissipated and her heart returned to a normal rhythm. She mulled Devon's words over before shrugging. "It was different, I suppose. That doesn't make me his girlfriend. It was just nice to have some form of social contact. I'm not exactly what you call a social butterfly."

Devon boomed a laugh. "You're kidding, right?" She scowled at him and he cleared his throat. "Wow, you're totally not kidding. Well, I don't know what to say. It's all up to you, I suppose."

Her scowl lessened in intensity but it still remained fixed on her face. "Yeah, I know." She took another drag and closed her eyes in barely contained bliss.

"That's really bad for you, you know?"

"I know," she simply replied. "I'm not proud of it, but sometimes, I just need a break from reality, y'know?" Boy, wasn't that the truth. Wasn't that the entire reason for sticking around Chuck? Or was it that she saw her spy life as her reality and needed a break from the monotony of sitting at home? All she knew for sure was that her head had started pounding and she felt her heartbeat in her temple, the soft pulses reminding her that she was still stressed out, still panicking, still frustrated. And she still hadn't escaped.

"Look," Devon started as he absentmindedly watched traffic pass by in front of the hospital. "I wanted to talk to you. Chuck... Chuck's got a lot on his plate right now. I mean, he's had a rough history where people continuously ran out on him. His parents did it, his girlfriend did it and his best friend did it. Well, his girlfriend and his best friend did it together... in more ways than one. What I'm trying to say is, I love Chuck like a brother and I want what's best for him. Don't just disappear. At least have the courtesy to say goodbye to him."

Sarah swallowed. "What makes you think I'll just up and leave?"

Devon turned to face her. "Call it a hunch. All I know is, don't leave the kid hanging, okay? You've been an amazing support system for him, so just grant him that common courtesy."

Sarah had faced down terrorists with AKs while she had two throwing knives, a potted plant and some flossing wire. She had won that fight without breaking a sweat. But as she looked in Devon's eyes, she couldn't find it in herself to steel her emotions and ignore his request before legging it out. So she meekly nodded. He nodded in return, before smiling again. "What do you say we go back and see how everyone's doing?"

They turned and walked back into the hospital, Sarah's craving for a cigarette temporarily forgotten.

**Restaurant, Washington Hospital Center  
>Friday, December 31st, 2004<br>12:30**

"Sarah," Ellie called as she cleared her table and put her garbage on the tray. She carried it over to the cart before turning around.

"Yes Ellie?"

"Look, I just wanted to thank you for the amazing care you took over my brother. And I want you to know that if there's anything that I can do for you, anything at all, you just tell me. You have my number, so feel free to call."

She surprised the spy by wrapping her in a hug. Sarah chewed on her bottom lip for a second, before tentatively returning it, not quite sure what to do. "You're welcome Ellie."

"So," she said as she straightened out. "What's next for you, Sarah?"

Sarah shrugged. "I don't know. I'll probably work for a while longer before taking a vacation to Europe or something."

Ellie gasped. "I've always wanted to go to Europe. So does Chuck. He can't stop talking about France."

"I got that impression," she chuckled in reply. She herself was pretty familiar with Paris, the city that Chuck really wanted to visit one day, and had entertained him for hours with just the simplest stories. His eyes took on that glint of wonder, the one that made her melt inside, the one that said, 'I believe every word you say.' Who knew that Sarah Walker could not only kill and main, but also entertain? She certainly didn't. But then again, Chuck had this way about him that made people find all kinds of hidden talents that had been buried deep within them. Mostly because he without reservation believed that his friends and family could do anything in the world. And his conviction just made you want to try.

Ellie gave a small sigh. "I'm actually going to miss you, how crazy is that?"

She shrugged. "Not really. I'm really going to miss you too."

"Well, I mean, there is a way so that we won't _have_ to miss each other."

And there it was. She wondered how long it was going to take for Ellie to bring that one up. Chuck had told her that she enjoyed doing this. "You mean like giving each other our MySpaces," she deflected. Ellie's face fell.

"Sure, yeah, like giving each other our MySpaces." Of course having a MySpace page as a spy was a faux-pas of epic proportions and would've gotten her a nice big black mark on her file, something which Sarah wasn't sure would do her any favors when she would inevitably go for DNI. But Ellie didn't have to know that.

"Hey," Sarah said. "I uh... I'm going to go walk around a bit more. You guys go on ahead."

Ellie shrugged and nodded, while Devon gave her a pointed look. Morgan had already raced past and was halfway to Chuck's room, clutching a turkey sandwich. She nodded to Devon and his shoulders relaxed from the tense position they were in. She wasn't going to run. She hadn't even thought about it... that much... really.

She stopped and looked around her, really looked around. It was an odd mixture of misery and hope that was on display throughout the room. She sighed. She needed to psych herself out and bad. Just a bit more walking around and then she'd break the news to him. Tell him that they couldn't be and that it was for the best. Now all she had to do, was make herself believe it.

**Washington Hospital Center  
>Friday, December 31st, 2004<br>20:45**

Walking around a bit more had turned into almost four hours of non-stop walking, followed by a quick dinner in the cafeteria—making sure that neither Ellie, Devon nor Morgan would spot her—before continuing her soul-searching trip, made possible by the delightful smell of antiseptic.

Aimlessly she wandered through the deserted hallways, surrounded by the bleeping of the heart monitors and the occasional cough that sounded like someone was throwing up a lung. It was a damn miracle she had survived with her sanity intact.

She collapsed on a chair, but felt herself fidgeting. She still had energy to burn, nerves to squash, before she could say goodbye. Piece of cake... right?

She continued her speed-walking tour through the vast emptiness of the building. It seemed like no one was there anymore, the hallways empty and forgotten. It only served to creep her out. She found herself walking through corridors she was certain she'd visited already but her mind kept replaying her speech in her mind. This was it. It was show time. She walked up to the room and was about to enter when she saw him sitting there, laughing with his family. He looked so happy. Her entire resolve crumbled and she turned. _Coward,_ she mentally berated herself. She had to bite on her lip to keep the frustrated scream inside.

Sarah sat down in the lobby, defeated. It had been a tough couple of days. Seventeen to be exact. Two weeks and three days with the most wonderful man that she had ever had the good fortune of meeting. But he was going back to Los Angeles. She accepted that now. And she had a decision to make. And the worst thing was that, despite the fact that her heart literally felt like exploding, there was but one thing to do. She had been kidding herself all this time. There would definitely be heartbreak. If not his, than most definitely hers. She sighed once more and steeled her nerves. Devon was right. They both deserved closure, and he deserved a proper goodbye from her. She had to do this to keep them safe. The both of them.

She got up, and walked back to the room, her features set in grim determination. She found the room to be deserted except for Chuck. She sighed before hardening her features once more. This was it. The end.

**Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center  
>Friday, December 31st, 2004<br>20:59**

"Hey stranger," Chuck grinned as she walked through the door. "How you doing? Haven't seen you in a while." The grin looked somewhat forced. He was probably wondering why she had avoided him for the better part of the day. But all that was about to be moot anyway.

"Chuck... we've got to talk."

The grin disappeared as fast as it had come. "What do you mean talk? Oh crap, I've seen plenty of movies that went like this. This is bad, isn't it?"

"I guess. Chuck, I know what it is you want... but... I... I can't... God, this is harder than I thought it would be," she growled. Why couldn't she just say it? What was so damn difficult? _Way to go Walker, deny that you have no clue why you're feeling like this._ And now she was talking to herself again. Fantastic. "I can't do it," she finally blurted out.

"What do you mean, you can't do it?" he asked. The way his eyes flicked away from her face for a split second told her that this wasn't genuine puzzlement. He knew what she was talking about. Disappointment flashed in his eyes and Sarah had to swallow before trudging on.

"I just mean I can't, Chuck. Don't you understand?"

"Actually, no, I don't. Explain it to me."

"Look," she started, feeling like her heart was trying it's hardest to gnaw out of her chest cavity. "Your recovery is done. I've kept my promise to you and now you're going back and I'm staying here. That's what's going to happen."

"Why?" Chuck asked defiantly. "I could stay here. It's not like I have anything in Burbank to return to. My sister will be fine without me, she has a loving boyfriend and that's what matters. Morgan is a grown man so he'll find his own way. There's literally nothing tying me to Los Angeles and you are here."

"No, you can't!" Sarah shouted. Why did this have to be so hard? Couldn't he just accept her explanation at face value and be done with it? Why did he choose now to question her?

"Why the hell not?" Chuck retorted, raising his voice to her. This was the first time that Chuck had done that and Sarah actually recoiled in shock. She half expected him to apologize, but he kept staring at her. The question kept ringing in her ears. Why the hell not?

"Because… because it's not safe for you here…"

"Is this about the robbery? Really?"

It seemed like an easy out. She should've taken it, but she couldn't. He deserved some honesty from her. "No… it's because I can't… I can't protect you… I'm not an… accountant. I'm a... a spy."

"Gee, no kidding," Chuck said, causing Sarah's eyes to widen. "I don't know about D.C., but an accountant doesn't generally have a stash of weapons hidden on his person in Los Angeles."

"Then why didn't you ask about it?" Sarah snapped, annoyed that she couldn't even keep her profession a secret from him. He had learned much more about her than she had truly wanted him to. He had learned about _her_. Not Sarah Walker, not Elizabeth or Elena or whatever stupid name she used.

"While I don't appreciate being lied to, I figured you would tell me when you were ready," Chuck said in a soft tone. And just like that, Sarah's resolve crumbled again. Every time she would try and take a step back, Chuck would take two steps forward. Inching closer at an agonizingly and yet deliciously slow pace. Who was she kidding? The moment he had made her laugh while he was knocking on death's door was the moment that he had won her over. But that was exactly the problem.

"But that's why… I can't. I can't protect you Chuck. And we wouldn't… we wouldn't be able to have anything… that's real. You would continuously question where I was or what I was doing or, God forbid, if I was sleeping with someone. What kind of a relationship would that be?"

"Would you?" he asked.

"Would I what?"

"Would you sleep with someone if the mission told you to?"

"I don't… I don't know anymore…" The question had been so easy to answer only two weeks ago. A simple yes with a curt nod would've been the response. No, she wouldn't be happy about it and she would try with everything that she had to get out of it. But when all was said and done, if it would've meant the difference between her losing another part of herself or people dying, she would've gladly lost a part of herself. It wasn't like she had anything or anyone caring about it anyway.

"Look Sarah, I can't look into your head. I have no idea if you care about me, but I care about you. I care about you a lot. I've never experienced this happiness in my life and I was stabbed not three weeks ago. So why can't we try?"

"Because it would never work!" Sarah shouted. The tears that she had tried to keep at bay finally started leaking out and she threw her head on the bed that Chuck was in. Her shoulders shook as the emotions that she was so used to compartmentalizing poured out of her like a tsunami.

A wave of sobs overcame her and it was only after a couple of minutes that she finally felt some form of composure return to her. She felt her hair slowly being tousled and she looked up at Chuck. The worry and pain that she was feeling was reflected in his eyes. "Even if we would be together and people would find out about you. They could capture you; use you as bait to get to me. I… I couldn't live with myself if something ever happened to you because of me. And it's not just the enemy we have to be afraid of. What if the CIA decides they want something from me that I don't want to give them? What if they decide to capture Agent Walker's boyfriend or lover or whatever the hell we're supposed to be at this point in time? What would happen then?" The question was rhetorical. She saw his eyes flash as he too realized how manipulative the government could be to reach its goals.

"So then why would you work for them?"

"Because it's the only thing I have left that's safe," she whispered defeated. She had teetered on the brink of losing it, and this was the final straw that broke the camel's back. She stood up and walked to the door. She was stopped as she put her hand on the latch, by Chuck's voice.

"Sarah, I love you. I didn't mean to say it like this, but you're being crazy. Doesn't it mean anything to you?"

She turned around and the tears pooled in the corner of her eyes again. "No," she whispered, and she saw the word, that devastating word, hit him like a sledgehammer. She might as well have shouted it at him. She yanked the door open and disappeared, nearly knocking over Ellie in the process. She heard Chuck call out after her but she blocked his words from her mind. She swore it would be the last time that she saw Chuck Bartowski. It made her feel even worse.

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><p><strong>AN2: **For old time's sake: 238 reviews and I'll post the final chapter*. Is that evil? Hell yeah it's evil. But then again, I'm evil. I went to the professor Moriarty school of villainry. I just made up a word. But I can do that. My words are now diamonds. See you soon (hopefully).

*No, this isn't actually meant to force people to review. I'll throw the chapter up in a few days. I had hoped the rest of my second A/N would've made people aware of the silliness, but this was not the case. So yeah, just FYI, review if you want to people, don't feel obliged :P


	11. The Ending

**A/N: **Everything A/N related after the chapter.

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Chuck. Last time I say that for this story. *sniff*

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><p><strong>The Good Samaritan, Chapter 11<br>The Ending**

* * *

><p><strong>In a cab to Sarah's Apartment<br>Friday, December 31st, 2004  
>21:12<strong>

She didn't bother hiding the tears. She didn't care anymore. So she cried. Cried for her life, cried for missed opportunities, cried for the things she would never get... she cried. All she cared about was getting away from the hospital and never seeing his face again. The world seemed to have grown a tad darker with her decision, but it was done. She would throw herself into her job and that would be that. Sarah Walker was destined to be a spy.

She meant it when she told Chuck that she didn't know whether she loved him. But she cared about him a great deal. More than she should've cared for someone, something which made his position in her life all the more dangerous. She was told from day one that spies didn't fall in love or form connections. People had a nasty tendency to die on you. Besides, caring about someone outside of a professional view would get you to do foolish things for those people, would get _you_ killed in the blink of an eye. Terrorists, or even her own government, wouldn't shirk from using Chuck as bait to lure her out. Wouldn't be scared to use him and as a result her to further progress their own goals.

But even that wasn't the real reason that she ran away. The real reason was far pettier. She was scared, scared that he would not be happy with her. It was a tough thing to admit for Sarah, but there it was. Without knowing it, Chuck had slyly wormed himself into Sarah's heart. He did it without so much as a kiss, but simply by being him. Simply by laughing with her and talking about her fictional job and his real one. Simply by telling her of the crazy antics that his co-workers had gotten themselves into and how he would go around solving it. He had even made video games sound appealing, something that Sarah had never had any interest in.

She leaned her head against the cold window of the taxi as it drove the by now familiar route back. The driver stayed respectfully silent and Sarah recognized her street as they drove down it. She felt the cab grinding to a halt. The driver turned to her. "Ma'am, are you okay?"

She shook her head. "No… and I don't know if I'll ever be." She saw the driver eye her conspicuously, obviously assuming that she had just lost a loved one_._ He would never suspect that she had just made one of the toughest decisions of her life. She got out and paid the fare, before grabbing her duffel bag and trudging up the stairs that led to her apartment. She opened the door and entered into the dark hallway. She normally loved the dark, stealth was important for a spy, but it seemed to have grown even darker than usual. She immediately reached for the light switch and continued to turn on every light in the house. Not a single inch of the room was left in the dark. The light managed to illuminate her entire apartment, but her heart remained pitch black.

She flung the bag in a corner before running to her bedroom and collapsing on the soft mattress. It felt amazing after having slept on a hospital bed for almost three weeks. She shucked off her clothing and climbed under the covers, hoping that a good night's sleep would bring a new day and hopefully her memory of him would start fading.

She closed her eyes but that only served to bring his face to the forefront of her mind. She felt her fingers searching for his hand as if it would provide the nutrition that she so desperately craved at that moment in time. All she found was a cold mattress. She willed her mind to forget, but just like it had done with her Red Test, the image of his face with his broken gaze proved to be the tormentor to Sarah's mind. His eyes bored into hers, the question playing in them. Why? It was then she realized that she had fallen asleep.

She jolted awake, but stubbornly refused to get up. She twisted and turned but sleep wouldn't catch her again. Her mind didn't let her. She kept replaying the conversation in her mind. Was her job truly that important? It had been all she had known for over six years; it had become part of her identity. Actually, the entire Sarah Walker identity belonged to the CIA, although the details that had seeped through were of the real her. She had no intention of compromising her safely guarded self, but it had happened on its own accord, thanks to him and his damn smile. She contemplated going back, telling him it was a mistake and that she loved him so much that two weeks with him were enough to convince her that he was all she wanted for the rest of her life. She had been thoroughly denying it to herself but she knew it was no use. It was stupid of her, but she had broken the cardinal rule. She kept trying to tell herself that she didn't, but finally, safely tucked away in the depths of her bed she admitted it to herself. But she couldn't do that to him, she couldn't begin something with a civilian, no matter how amazing a person he was. Everything she had told him in the hospital was true. He would be in danger. So maybe the CIA wouldn't go quite as far as she had told him they would to make sure she would never leave, but that didn't mean that the enemies she had would be quite so benevolent.

But she wasn't sure who she was protecting more at the moment. Him... or her.

The main reason that she didn't dare going back was because she was scared. She had been abandoned too many times already. Her dad had abandoned her when he got caught, the CIA had abandoned her in her time of need after her Red Test, Zondra had abandoned not only her but her country by reporting to Gaez… Yes, Sarah knew what she wanted, she had always known throughout her entire life. But for the first time in her life, what she really wanted directly correlated to another human being and that thought frightened her to no end. She had stood toe-to-toe with the vilest of mankind on the planet and something as simple as committing to a man scared her to no end. She found herself cursing the CIA for not including how to deal with stuff like this in their training.

What had felt like four hours in actuality was closer to ten minutes. She gave up trying to fight a losing battle and reluctantly slid back out of bed. She padded over to the TV, dressed in nothing more than a bra and panties, her attire during most if not all of the nights at the hospital. She didn't even have the willpower to get a robe. Unceremoniously she plopped down in a chair and turned on the TV. The first channel was a romantic comedy. _Of course._ She zapped along but couldn't find anything to her liking. It seemed like America had decided that it would be a night full of shows that were prime candidate to being canned or movies that would have a swooning effect on ladies. Sarah wasn't a fan of American television at that point.

She despondently clicked the TV off again and the apartment was filled with a deafening silence. If she would focus really hard, maybe she could remember his voice and let it talk to her. _Great, that's not desperate at all._

She looked across the room and felt like she was suffocating. Everywhere she looked she imagined seeing him, smiling at her. She had to get out of there and fast. If she didn't, who knew what would happen? She grabbed the duffel bag she had thrown away earlier and made her way out of the apartment. The cold December air hit her like a sledgehammer but it wasn't the freezing air that was hurting her the most. It was her own traitorous heart.

**24 Hour Fitness  
>Friday, December 31st, 2004<br>22:46**

Sarah had no idea why she ordered the taxi driver to take her to the gym. She knew she wanted to release her stress but she doubted that they would be open on New Year's Eve. But her steps were mechanical and before she knew it she walked into the trusted gym. Apparently they were in fact open. _Who would've thought?_

Her somewhat good mood shattered when she saw Paul talking to his boyfriend and she found herself once again thinking back to the hospital. Of course the man had to have brown curly hair. It was destined to be. Sarah Walker would not catch a break. She walked up to the counter and tried to open her mouth, but was reduced to a sobbing mess. The tears streamed over her face unbidden. She fell to the ground and felt four strong arms pick her up and drag her to a back room. She heard mumbling but the sound of her own wracking sobs overpowered the voices, reducing them to joining the background sounds. She was gently sat down in a chair and she slumped forward, burying her face between the crooks of her arms as she silently sobbed on the desk. She heard the gentle voice of Paul asking his boyfriend to leave them alone for a bit and he would come get him when he was done. He approached the desk and laid a comforting hand on Sarah's back, softly rubbing it. She felt the vibration of him putting something on the desk and when she looked up she saw a water bottle being placed in front of her.

Paul stopped rubbing her back the moment he saw that she had eyed the water bottle and moved across the desk. He sat down and looked at her, willing her to speak "I… fucked… up," she managed to say between sobs, finally admitting the truth, not only to Paul but to herself as well. But it didn't matter. It had been done.

"Calm down first. Take a sip of water. And then calmly explain to me how you fucked up and we'll see if we can fix it," he said with a sincere voice. It reminded her of the way Chuck would talk to her which caused another crying jag.

"I'm guessing this is about a guy?" Paul asked. Sarah simply nodded her head, unable to form words. She did feel the tears finally starting to stop.

She lifted her head and grabbed the water bottle. She twisted the cap off and took a few frantic sips. The water felt cool against her throat. She took a few calming breaths, willing herself not to burst out in tears again. But every time she'd take a breath she would see Chuck's face as it was contorted in dismay at the fact that she was saying goodbye.

"Feeling better?" Paul asked. Sarah shook her head. "Okay. Take all the time you need."

It took her another five agonizing minutes before she finally calmed herself down to a point where she could speak with only a minor waiver in her voice. She proceeded to tell him everything. About how she met him on the street when he was bleeding to death in front of her, to her begging for him to survive, to them playing different games together and laughing with each other. About how amazingly well she had connected with Chuck's family and friends. About how the conversation with him was so easy even though they came from two completely different worlds. About how she wasn't an accountant at all but rather that she worked for the CIA. About how she hadn't felt bored even though she had been so inactive since Chuck came in her life, whereas before she needed to continuously be active in a physical way for her to not be bored. And finally she told him about how she had come to the inevitable conclusion that it wasn't possible for them to be together due to the fact that she was too proud to be a serving intelligence officer as well as being too scared about a possible relationship that she hid behind the job as her penultimate argument for them not being together.

Paul had kept silent during her entire explanation and hadn't asked any question at all. Even after she was done he kept silent. "Well… I'm done explaining now," she said with a weak chuckle that turned into a small sob.

"It seems to me that you're not happy with your choice." Paul started.

"You could say that," Sarah sniffled.

"Then why would you continue to torment yourself like this?"

It was a fair question. "I don't… I don't know. Because I'm scared? Because he might let me down?"

"Do you honestly believe that?" She shook her head. "Listen, honey. I can't speak for you, but the way you just described this man, he is everything you've been looking for. He can make you laugh; he can make you enjoy your life again. And he never even had any physical intimacy with you. Do you not understand how unbelievably rare such a thing is?" Again, Sarah shook her head. "As I said, I can't speak for you or make any decision for you. But there are more things to life than just a job. Your job won't be there for you when you're tired. Your job won't be there to rub your feet or listen to your stories. Your job won't be able to take you out to a nice candlelit dinner and then take you dancing. Let me ask you this, does your job make you happy?"

"I don't know… I guess."

"And does he make you happy?"

Sarah perked up as she thought about those glorious two weeks. "Yes, yes he does."

"So what's the problem then?" Sarah stared blankly into space. "Let me ask you, do you love him?" Sarah shrugged and she felt like the tears would soon return. "Does he love you?" Sarah nodded again. "In words, please."

"He does… he told me so himself."

"And you?"

"I… I think so… But, how can I be sure?" While her mind had been made up in her own bed, proclaiming it outright proved to be tougher than she had thought. Sarah began to feel like it was a mistake, coming to the gym. But like a train wreck that was just waiting to happen, she couldn't do anything about it now.

"Well," Paul started. "Love is different for everyone. But I suppose that the easiest way to define it is if you want to be with someone for the sake of being with someone. You become happy by him or her being by your side. You're happy when you get to do things together. But most of all, it's a _feeling_ that you have that no one else is able to illicit in you. How does he make you feel?"

"Like… like I'm the center of his world."

"And do you like that feeling?" he asked her. Sarah swallowed. The answer was easy, but the repercussions for answering would change everything.

"Yes," she admitted. "I do."

"And what is he to you? Chuck, I think he was called?" Sarah thought about it, but before she could respond, Paul was grinning. "You should see yourself. I only _mentioned_ his name and you started smiling. Sarah, I don't know why you're fighting this so hard." She kept quiet, which seemed to annoy Paul. She had never, ever seen him annoyed, especially not at her. "So what you're essentially telling me is that you are going to walk away from someone you love and who loves you to a job that you aren't even sure delivers you happiness?"

The words hit Sarah hard. Put like that, she couldn't for the life of her figure out why she had run away. She sat staring blankly into space again, when an argument popped up. "It's been two weeks and a few days. How is it even possible for this to happen?"

"Who knows?" he said. "No one really knows how this all works. But I can tell you that it doesn't matter whether you've known someone for a month, three years or a decade. If it feels right, it feels right and you'd be foolish not to act on it."

"But what if he hurts me?" she asked in an impossibly small voice, not at all a resemblance of the strong young woman that she was, but more of a small child, the one she never had the opportunity to be.

"Then that's what he does. Sarah, life is made up of chances and choices. But you've been living in a bubble. Why do you think you keep coming here so often? Because that's what your bubble was made up of. You had work, you had the gym, and you had your apartment. It was safe. You didn't put yourself out there. And while I agree that the clientele in this particular establishment may not have been the most enticing, there are enough great guys out there, perfect for you. But you're scared to take a chance. It's obvious in everything you do."

"But you don't understand… I…"

"_I_ don't understand?" he asked, in a firm tone. "Honey, I'm gay. I've had to deal with rejection all my life, not only in my love life, but in social circles as well. I've been put down by other people on an almost daily basis. But at the end of the day, I kept putting myself out there. And now, I've found my happiness. Why are you so intent on denying yourself the chance at happiness? Yes, it may go south, that's a possibility. But the way I've seen your eyes light up at the mere mention of his name… You need to take a chance. Take a chance on _him._ Because even if it goes south, it will still mean that you tried. But I've known you for four years now and not once have I seen you… happy. So please, do yourself a favor. Go back to him; tell him you made a mistake and that you'd like to go for it with him. Screw conventional rules. This is _your_ life, not anyone else's. You get to lead it the way you want, and you _do_ get to be happy. All you need to do is chase it."

Once again, she found herself thinking back to everything that happened and the unfamiliar and yet amazing emotions that she had been feeling. She sighed once, before a small grin threatened to break through. "So what are you going to do?" he asked, his gaze still firmly fixed on Sarah.

Sarah was scared to admit that she was going to go back to him and plead with him to take her back. She knew that he'd probably get a cocky grin on his face and tell her that he was always right. Still, he _did_ help her, so he deserved to know. "I'm going to go back."

"Good, now let's get you back to where you belong so you can start living the life you deserve." He stood up and grabbed his car keys. _What the hell? _Paul's facial expression didn't change. He simply helped her and that was enough for him. He didn't need anything. He had been selfless. It reminded her of Chuck, but then again, a lot of things reminded her of him. The impression she got from him was that he too would do anything to help a friend. Paul was heading for the doorbut Sarah stopped him.

"Paul… thank you."

He enveloped her in a hug and kissed the top of her head. "Anything for you."

**Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center  
>Friday, December 31st, 2004<br>23:30**

Sarah stood in front of his door. She knew they had spotted her already and were doing a fine job in ignoring her. A nervous ball threatened to overtake her completely. She had faced down terrorists with weapons while she had a knife and a spoon and she didn't break a sweat. And here she was, going to tell someone she loved that she was willing to fight for their relationship and she was a nervous wreck. She had already made the call and sorted everything else out. All that was left was to face him and tell him the truth and the new status quo. _If he lets me, that is._

She tentatively opened the door to the room. Chuck was still lying in bed, surrounded by Devon, Ellie and Morgan. She stepped in and saw Chuck glance over to her before dismissing her completely. Her courage fell and she knew she had screwed up royally.

"Could you please leave us alone for a bit? I need to talk to Chuck… in private."

"We're not leaving," Ellie spat. "I think it's you that should be leaving."

Sarah looked around and saw a constellation of emotions around the room. Morgan looked upset, probably because she had hurt his best friend. Devon looked a little less upset and even had a smidge of empathy in his gaze. Chuck's eyes displayed hurt and disappointment and Ellie's eyes were a blazing fire of rage. Sarah swallowed nervously and contemplated just cutting her losses and run. But she wanted… no, she needed to do this. She met Ellie's eyes, sure that the intensity in her eyes mirrored Ellie's. "No."

"Haven't you done enough damage yet?" Ellie asked, the venom dripping in her tone.

"Actually," she started. "I think it's time I start to take responsibility for the damage that I've caused and start fixing it," Sarah said, standing defiantly.

Ellie glanced over at Chuck who was a lot more interested to hear what Sarah had to say after her last remark. He briefly nodded and Ellie wordlessly stood up and walked out of the room, followed by Morgan and Devon. Devon stopped and leaned in to Sarah, whispering, "Don't screw up now."

Sarah nodded and swallowed before stepping towards Chuck. She took a seat and started fiddling with her hands. She hoped to God that her little speech hadn't done irreparable damage. Oh, she was perfectly willing to grovel; she just hoped he was receptive.

"Chuck…"

"You said you wanted to fix the damage you've done."

"I do…"

"And how do you propose that you would do that? The way I see it, you said what you really wanted to say and you told me yourself that it was final. So what has changed in…" he trailed off and looked at the clock, "two hours?"

"I have." She saw that her response threw him for a loop.

"Really? Well, that's awfully convenient isn't it?" he finally said in an icy tone that she wasn't used to. The bubble of fear that she had screwed up for good threatened to make its way to the surface.

"I… I had a good long chat with someone… and he sort of showed to me what an idiot I was being."

"So what's changed about… you?" he asked. Apparently, her response had been a good one. His tone while still cold seemingly was beginning to thaw a bit.

"For one, I called my superiors and I told them that I was retiring from field work. I hadn't been doing it for very long and the director tried to get me to reconsider but I told him that I was either becoming an analyst or I would leave the agency." Chuck's eyes widened at the revelation but he didn't say anything. Sarah cast her eyes to the ground. "But that was only part of the reason…"

"And what was the other part?"

"I was scared," she admitted, and she was sure her eyes displayed the vulnerability that she was feeling. "Scared that it wouldn't work out, scared that I was moving too fast, scared that you…"

"That I would leave you," Chuck finished the sentence. Sarah looked up and the tears that she had desperately tried to keep at bay made their way back to her eyes. _Haven't I cried enough, already?_ She nodded and a tear made its way down her cheek. Chuck's soft thumb stopped the tear from completing its journey. She sniffled and swiped away the remaining tears in her eyes.

"I was… am afraid that I can't… be a good girlfriend. I've never been one. I didn't even go to my high school's prom… I don't know anything about how to take care of you or how to let someone take care of me. It's never happened. What if I screwed up?"

"So you decided to walk away?"

The question was justified but it still stung. "Like with everything, I thought it was better to just run away from my troubles."

"You said you changed. What happened?"

Sarah perked up a bit. "I spoke to an old friend who told me what a fool I was being. He explained to me that there was more to life than just my job and he… explained to me that it was okay to take the plunge into the deep end sometimes."

"Listen, Sarah. If there's one thing I value above all; it's trust. I need to be able to trust you. What do you think would've happened if your friend wasn't there?"

Sarah's eyes fell again and she couldn't bear to look at him. "I would like to think that eventually I would've realized my mistake… but I'm not sure." She heard him sigh and her heart broke. She knew that he would tell her that he didn't want to be with her only because a 'friend' told her to be. Her efforts had been in vain. By telling him the truth, she had inadvertently signed the death warrant on a possible relationship, which admittedly was still in limbo.

"Well, let's just be happy that he was there for you, then." Sarah's eyes shot up and she looked into Chuck's eyes as he smiled at her. Her heart seemed to stop beating for an instant, only to beat twice as fast as usual, all at the same time. Her stomach fluttered and her eyes conveyed her question to him. He simply nodded and she jumped up and flung herself at him, holding on to him for dear life. She felt his arms encircle her waist and she buried her face in the crook of his neck.

"You're not angry or upset at me?" she asked, painfully aware that her voice sounded like that of a broken girl, although she probably was.

"You came back for me, right?" he asked her, and she nodded in return. "Then why would I be angry or upset?"

Sarah felt her entire body deflate in relief. The tears fell but this time sadness wasn't a factor. She felt Chuck softly stroking her hair and she couldn't think of a moment where she had felt more at peace or better yet, more at home than at that moment in his arms. "I want to move to D.C… preferably move in with you. Would you be okay with that?" Sarah stiffened in his grasp. What the...? Moving in together? So soon? They were barely a couple. Granted, she had barely left his side during his stay in the hospital but that didn't mean that th... Chuck kissed the top of her head. "Don't worry. We'll discuss it later," he whispered in her ear and the tension in her muscles dissipated. She fell slack into his arms.

The door opened and Ellie walked in, followed by Devon and Morgan. "So that's it?" she questioned when she came close. "She says she's sorry and you forgive her?"

Sarah's eyes shot up towards the older Bartowski sibling, but before she could say something, Chuck beat her to the punch. "Yep, that's how it works." Sarah felt her hand being searched out by Chuck's and she grasped it, feeling him squeeze in it for support.

"Weren't you not two hours ago, telling me what happened while you were damn near bawling your eyes out about the fact that she was leaving? I think that warrants an explanation."

"And she gave it, and I accepted it," Chuck said, his eyes blazing. "Is it so hard to be happy for me? To accept the fact that I can make choices in my own life without consulting you first?"

Ellie's stern mask fell. "No… but I… I just want what's best for you Chuck…"

"And Sarah is what is best for me."

"But she's a spy!" Ellie shouted, her voice breaking at the end and according to her facial expression, she had shouted a lot harder than she had intended to.

"Not anymore," Sarah whispered, sufficiently scared of Ellie and what she might do if Sarah would speak up.

"What was that?"

"Not anymore," Sarah said, this time louder. "I transferred from field ops to an analytical position so that I wouldn't have to endanger Chuck… or myself. And this way we could be together."

Ellie deflated. "But what about me?" she asked while her eyes started to become glassy.

"I don't know what you mean," Chuck responded, but the way his eyes darted away in guilt betrayed the fact that he was well aware of what she meant.

"Chuck you have a life in Los Angeles. And if she's in an analytical position that means she needs to be close to her headquarters… And long distance never works…"

Chuck knew where she was going. "That's all very true. Which is why I've decided to move to D.C."

Ellie cast her eyes down to the ground, much like Sarah had done not five minutes before. "I knew it," she whispered. Her shoulders started shaking and Sarah saw Chuck desperately wanting to reach out for her. "You're leaving me."

Chuck sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "Look, contrary to what you believe, I didn't actually have a life in LA. What did I do? I moped and worked at a Buy More for twelve bucks an hour. I was living with my sister and her boyfriend. And that was great, but it's also pretty sad. Who lives with his sister when he's twenty-four years old? The only "normal" thing I've done since Stanford is hang out with Morgan. And even that usually led to us staying up 'till ridiculous hours and playing video games. Apart from Morgan and you, there is nothing keeping me in LA. I think it's time to grow up, sis. And I know that I can do that with Sarah."

Ellie was embraced by Devon, who mouthed, 'awesome' to Chuck before focusing his attention on his girlfriend. "He's right, Ellie. I know you love Chuck and I love him like a brother but I can see this working out just fine for him. It's time to let him go and spread his wings."

Ellie collapsed against Devon, silently sobbing and Sarah saw that Chuck felt like crap. She squeezed his hand to let him know that she was there for him. She was rewarded with him smiling in her direction and for a second she swore that the world around them brightened. His smiles still hadn't lost their potency.

Ellie slowly turned around, while still being embraced by Devon. "There is absolutely nothing I can do to get you to change your mind?"

"No," Chuck said, but Sarah felt the tenseness in his muscles. She couldn't believe what he was willing to give up, just to take a chance on her, in the same way that she was finally ready to take a chance on him.

"Then I guess that all there is left to say is… good luck, Chuck. And remember," a watery smile broke through, "you're aces."

"Thanks, Ellie. I love you and don't you forget it." The words acted like a needle that popped a balloon and she felt the tension leave his body at an astonishing rate.

She nodded and fell back in Devon's embrace.

"Morgan… you okay buddy?" Chuck asked. The bearded best friend had been uncharacteristically quiet and just stood in the room with a vacant stare in his eyes.

"Dude," he managed to say. "You're leaving?"

Chuck nodded. "Look man, I know we had some fantastic times in our lives and I'll never forget them. But it's time to move on. I found a woman that I love and we're going to be moving in together. And I'm sure that you'll find someone to fall in love with as well. And it's not like we won't game together anymore," Chuck promised him, his face sporting a cheeky smile.

"Hey, shouldn't I get some say in that? I do believe that it's my apartment that you're looking to move in to," Sarah huffed. She lifted her head but made the crucial mistake of looking into Chuck's puppy dog eyes. "Fine," she acquiesced before lowering her head back in the crook of his neck. _Damn puppy dog eyes._

She heard Ellie chuckle and Morgan spoke up. "Dude, I get it. Look at her… she's awesome. I get it, it's just… tough. And it'll definitely be different. But I'm happy for you man, I really am. Because you know I'll back your play every time, right?"

"I know Morgan. And thanks, that's all I wanted to ask of you guys."

Sarah turned in his grasp and it seemed that everyone had calmed down and made peace with the inevitable. Sarah didn't feel any of the sorts. She just felt giddy and couldn't wait to take him home to her apartment. Her life had been in shambles from the moment her father drove her away from her grandmother's house. But finally her luck had changed. Everything was right again.

**Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center  
>Friday, December 31st, 2004<br>23:59**

_10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1_

**Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center  
>Saturday, January 1st, 2005<br>00:00**

"Happy New Year!" the gathered shouted as everyone went in for hugs. Chuck had actually managed to stand up and while his first steps were a bit wobbly, he had regained his footing. Sarah had hugged and kissed her boyfriend's family, before coming face to face with Chuck.

"I've wanted to do this for a long time," he admitted.

"Me too," she replied.

They moved in and their lips met in a foreign way that felt safe and natural at the same time. Tentatively, Sarah felt Chuck's tongue seeking entrance and she was happy to allow it. She softly moaned and returned the kiss with vigor, before slowly parting and gazing into his eyes. A genial grin, that Sarah was sure was on her face as well, overtook his face.

"Happy New Year, Sarah."

"Happy New Year, Chuck."

It had been a night of many new firsts for Sarah. It was the night of the New Year, the night of her first kiss with Chuck, hell it was even the night of her first kiss on New Year's Eve. It was the first time she dove into the deep end and put all her trust in another human being, being secure in the knowledge that he wouldn't take that responsibility lightly. It was the first time in a long while that she was open and vulnerable, having closed off the world for so long. She had opened up to this crazy, insane, lovable family. And for the first time, she was okay with it. For the first time, she felt like she truly belonged. For the first time, she felt like all her fears and insecurities were misplaced. And for the first time, in a very long time, Sarah Walker had a family again.

She snuggled into Chuck's embrace, relishing in the comfort and safe feeling his arms provided. She sighed contentedly and fell slack in his grip. She felt, rather than saw, the smile grow on Chuck's face, bubbling up from his toes all the way to his mouth at the way she wholly trusted him to take care of her.

"I love you," he murmured into her hair, before softly pressing his lips to it. Sarah's heart fluttered and despite the fact that she didn't yet return the gesture, she knew it only to be a matter of time before she would. Because for the first time since the day she had walked away from her own home, stripped of a name and identity, the world made sense again.

**The End**

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><p><strong>AN**: This fic started out as an idea I got at 4 AM as I was nestling into my bed. I turned on the PC again, wrote out the idea and went back to bed. Little did I know that it would end up becoming my (as of yet) most popular fic. I want to thank every single reviewer for taking his or her time in letting me know what you thought. You all made this story so much more interesting for me to write, it's a seriously unbelievable experience.

A few special mentions I'd like to give. First off, **ShinyJayne20**, for listening to my insane prattle, for laughing with me, for simply making the stupidest stuff up and going with it. Natalie, you've been and still are amazing, and it's an honor to be able to talk to you each and every day. Another person I'd like to mention is **chuckaddict **or **stefii1806 **for joining our insane little group and pitching in with your own crazy ideas. It's been a blast. Furthermore, **uplink2** for supporting me from the very beginning of my entering in this world, faithfully reviewing almost everything I ever wrote. Thank you so much dude. Also thanks to **BigKev67** for being the coolest Australian I've met. And of course to the faithful reviewers, and everyone who just bothered to join me on this crazy journey of self exploration and... wait, hang on, wrong story. Whoops. Oh well, still a major thank you.

As for me, well, I still have a hell of a lot of Chuck fics up my sleeves that I'll be working on. I might eventually put up the epilogue but my main issue with that is that if I do it, it almost assuredly forces me into a sequel and I don't know whether I have the time to commit to one so for now, this is the end. However, the future is still uncertain.

My closing statement? Well, it's been an extremely fun experience and I'm stoked that I can finally say I've actually finished a multi chapter fic. I hope you all enjoyed it, I most certainly did. Thank you all very much for reading.


	12. The Epilogue

**A/N**: I said I wasn't going to, damn it! But here I am, doing it anyway. The epilogue to the Good Samaritan. You'll notice a change in perspective as well. Whereas in the normal chapters, I was more than content with exploring just Sarah, for the sake of this chapter actually working, I'm forced to switch. So yay for switching. Also, there are a few expletives throughout the chapter. Mostly because I do love a well placed expletive, but if this offends you in any way, shape or form, I am sorry.

Also, uh, yeah, this is kind of like the motherload of Charah chapters, at least ones I've written. So feast while you can people, and I hope that people who enjoy Charah, enjoy this chapter. Please take note of the dates, otherwise things just get confusing.

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Chuck. This is the actual last time I'll be able to say that. No more! I promise.

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><p><strong>The Good Samaritan, Chapter 12<br>The Epilogue**

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><p><strong>Sarah's apartment<br>Tuesday, January 4th, 2005  
>21:45<strong>

The awkwardness that Sarah had suspected would come into play, hadn't actually materialized. When the inevitable panic set in after the goodbyes to the rest of his family, he had taken her request for him to not move in just yet with grace and found a hotel. They'd hung out every day and she'd taken him through the city, introduced him to Paul—who gave his silent approval when Chuck wasn't looking—and showed him her favorite restaurants.

It was terrifying.

The feelings of never really belonging anywhere settled over her like a blanket, her past consisting of nothing more than trekking from one place to another, never settling down anywhere. Roots were scary. Roots meant that people knew you. Roots meant that you had to let people in.

And she did let him in. Sort of. She shared quite a lot with him, but preferred to keep a few things close to the vest. She never spoke about her family, not wanting him to know what a major mess it was. The only relationship she still somewhat had was with her mother and she rarely spoke to her, except when she was feeling homesick. But she lived all the way in Los Angeles and Sarah, well, she was from DC. Of course Sam was from Los Angeles, but Sam had stopped existing. And there was the fact that Sarah hadn't so much as told Chuck she loved him yet. She probably did, but she wasn't sure. She had loved Matt, even told him so. But that one ended soon enough when she found him in bed with Jordana, her at the time somewhat close friend. So she was hesitant at best to make another leap like that.

And now here she was, in a relationship where she couldn't even pinpoint the moment it began and loving every minute of it. Which was probably the reason why she had figured that two dates were more than enough—besides, she counted the trip through DC with Ellie and Devon as one as well, which technically made it three—for her to smash him against the door to her apartment and being about three seconds away from simply letting him take her against it. Chuck, being the somewhat saner of the two, got her to see reason and she fumbled her keys in her haste.

They entered the apartment, still relatively clothed, but if it was up to Sarah, that wouldn't be the case much longer.

"Thanks for dinner," she mumbled as she slammed him against the other side of the door.

"Least I could do," he replied from the side of his mouth while she clawed at his jacket. He helped her speed the process along and before she knew it, she jumped and locked her ankles behind his back while he carried her to her bedroom, all the while alternating between laughing and kissing her to within an inch of her life.

Afterwards, they lay on bed, laughing and joking, things naturally progressing towards a second, slightly more sedate round. And as she fell asleep, her entire body wrapped around him, Sarah could think but one thing.

_Yup, I'm definitely loving this._

**Roark Industries, Washington  
>Monday, November 30th, 2004<br>10:15**

"Sir," Lonny shouted as he sprinted through the hallways. "Sir!"

"What, what, what is it? What do you want? What does somebody want now?" Roark—Teddy to his friends, sneered.

"We've found him," the young ginger haired man gasped.

"You've found Stephen Bartowski?"

"Well... not quite sir... We've found his son."

"How can you still not have found him?"

"He's disappeared sir, but this is good news, right? Surely, he'd contact his own _son_."

Roark stroked his chin thoughtfully. "You know what Lonny? I just got a great idea. We can keep tabs on the son. Surely, Stephen would contact his own son, right?"

Lonny sighed. "You're right sir. That is brilliant."

"That's how I got in my position, kid. By being brilliant. Never forget that. Maybe you can be the next me."

Lonny simply nodded. Sure, Theodore Roark was a great boss to have. You didn't even have to give a reason for a leave of absence. He'd accept it anyway. But if you'd ever have a good idea, he would claim it as one of his own. Although the rise in salary you'd get for a good invention was pretty great as well. He'd heard of several people who could retire after three months with their increase in salary. "Sir, is the plan still the same?"

"Kid, I told you before. Just call me Teddy."

"I'd much prefer sir… sir."

"Whatever. I don't care either way. But yes, the plan is still the same. We find him and then we kill him."

"Sir, why exactly do you want to kill him?"

"Because," Roark sighed, his inflection reminiscent of a man instructing a child. "the man can ruin me if he so chooses. He's probably still got the original blueprints of almost everything that Roark Industries has ever produced. Therefore, if he comes forward, he can ruin the entire company. And as such, he has to die." He smiled a friendly smile, before adding, "Now, I have an idea as to how we might find our friend."

**Sarah's apartment  
>Wednesday, January 12th, 2005<br>15:15**

"You are _absolutely_ right," Chuck sighed.

"See, I told you," she replied with a triumphant smirk. Sarah sat on the couch, her feet lounging on the coffee table. Chuck lay splayed over the couch, his head finding a comfortable spot in her lap. They were watching what had to be the most God awful thing in the world. Daytime television.

"How did you ever suffer through this?"

"The CIA taught us relaxation techniques. It's like an out of body experience and time loses its meaning. I think it was founded in the Buddhist religion as a way to achieve nirvana. It's actually pretty cool."

"Whoa, that sounds amazing. Do you think you could teach me?" he asked, a hopeful look in his face.

She held his gaze while stroking his hair for a few seconds, before bursting out in laughter. "Oh, I'm sorry, but you should've seen your face. There actually is no such thing, Chuck. Most of the time I simply zone out."

He actually pouted and Sarah laughed before giving him a quick smooch. "Better now?"

"A little," he admitted.

She laughed again; a rich, heartfelt laugh, and she resumed stroking his hair, her fingers losing their way in the unkempt curls that she was so fond of. And that's when it hit Sarah, that strange feeling of bliss she had been feeling at the utter normalcy of her life. "I love you," she said, and her eyes widened. Okay, so she knew it to be a fact, but this was scarier than she had ever imagined anything being. Even when she had jumped out of a plane with a parachute that had a fifty/fifty chance of not deploying, it had seemed safer than this.

Chuck's reaction was somewhat what she expected, which caused her to curse her timing. He did a double take before launching up from her lap, his skull connecting with her chin. She yelped and cradled the affected area. The man had a remarkably firm head.

"Oh crap, I'm so sorry," he cried, his tone frantic. "Are you okay?"

"Mfine," she nodded.

"Good. Oh, and by the way." He cupped her face, gazing into her eyes. His piercing stare caused her to feel a wave of shyness blanketing over her, enveloping her and causing a small blush to color her cheeks. Still, her ears yearned to hear the words he was undoubtedly going to say. "I love you too."

**Roark Industries, Washington  
>Friday, December 3rd, 2004<br>13:00**

The murmurs vanished the moment that Theodore Roark strode through the giant chrome doors, flanked by two burly security guards. He walked up to the head of the table and sat himself behind the laptop that had been set up for him. "Ladies and gentleman, I thank you all for coming. It has come to our attention that this man…" A picture of Charles Irving Bartowski was displayed on the giant monitor behind Roark. "…Chuck Bartowski, is the son of one of my closest friends at university. Stephen Bartowski. Now, why is this important? Because Stephen Bartowski has to die."

He bellowed a laugh and several people chimed in, although it sounded rather forced. "Now, here's what's going to happen. We will rig one of our newer laptops with a two way webcam as well as a GPS and facial recognition features. Furthermore, we will install vocal recognition software. Then, we'll be hosting a massive event, we'll dub it the launch party for the Roark 6, and give young Chuck here a new free laptop. Then, whenever anyone that comes within fifty feet of the laptop utters the words Stephen, Bartowski, Dad or any other affiliated names, we will be notified immediately. It is absolutely vital that this is completed."

A woman in her mid-thirties, her auburn hair in a bun and wearing stylish glasses, raised her hand. "When exactly do you want this laptop to be ready?"

"Laptop_s_, plural, my dear. We'll be handing them out to a 'select few', thus making sure that our friend here will never give it away. The only difference for Chuck here will be the 'extra' features that we will have added on there."

**Teatro Goldoni, Washington D.C.  
>Wednesday, January 19th, 2005<br>20:00**

"Oh God, that's amazing," he said while he munched on the fish, as she retracted her fork. "Here, try this." He skillfully twirled the pasta around his fork—she knew from firsthand experience how dexterous those fingers really were—before depositing them on his spoon. Sarah's taste-buds melted when they touched the rich tomato sauce and noodles and she let out a moan in appreciation. "And here I was, thinking that I was the only one able to entice that sound out of you," he chuckled. She glared at him, albeit with a smile, but the move lost its effect as her lips were covered in sauce. "Has anyone ever told you how cute you are when you've got sauce all over your face?" he asked.

Sarah shrugged, still retaining the small grin. "Pasta is messy. It's bound to happen."

He chuckled. "True, but not when you're in a fine dining establishment. Oh, and by the way, I'm paying tonight, I will have no argument with you on this. It's just not right for a woman to pay on a date."

"And from what source did you suddenly conjure up money? You're no longer the supervisor like you were in L.A., Chuck. You're just a herder now. I still have a cushy government job with a decent pay-rate. And besides, you know how you can make it up to me."

"Sarah, look. I love that you're so full of... vitality for a lack of a more appropriate term, but seriously..." He bent forward and whispered, "...we've been going at it like rabbits. Lord knows I'm not complaining, but we've barely used your bed for sleeping."

"Three times a week is hardly 'going at it like rabbits'," she said, when a particular part of his previous sentence strode to the forefront of her mind and wouldn't let go. _Your bed_. "Chuck, you're absolutely right."

"Huh, what? Didn't you _just_ disagree with me? What am I right about?"

"Well, you said _your_ bed. How would you feel about making it _our_ bed? That way, whenever we do get there, it won't be about sex. Well, not _every _time."

"Sarah," he hissed. "Please keep it down when you use the s-word. And could we please switch to the term 'making love'? I feel like we've passed the stage of just sex quite a while ago. Also, I'd like to inform you that the amount of times we've made love is all up to you. Because really, you just have to snap your fingers and I'd climb the Himalayas for you, in my underpants and without any oxygen, just because you want some ice for your beverage, because that's how much I love you, and holy crap you just asked me to move in with you." He finally took a (long overdue) breath of air, his face having turned red somewhere around the time of talking about making love being up to her. Sarah's smile was beaming.

"That I did."

He nodded vigorously as Sarah fished for her keys and dropped them on the table in front of him. "We'll get doubles made tomorrow," she promised as she took another bite of her fish. Somehow, it tasted even better.

**Roark Industries, Washington  
>Tuesday, December 14th, 2004<br>09:00**

"Is everything ready people?" Roark asked as his staff was buzzing around the bowels of the building, making sure that everything was up to par. He wrung his hands in anticipation. In a few short hours, he would've had the spawn of one of his biggest rivals—could he really be called a rival if he was missing in action, Roark idly wondered—lo-jacked for all intents and purposes. And the moment that Stephen would get in touch with him would be the moment that Roark could finally release all the tension that had inhibited his shoulders ever since starting Roark Industries using the method of creating LCDs the way Stephen had thought it up. He would take care of his demon once and for all.

"Everything is set up, Mr. Roark," Lonny called back.

"Excellent my boy. You've done well."

"Thank you, Mr. Roark."

Lonny never had any true values or any patriotic feelings. Sure, he enjoyed living in America but for all he cared, it could've been Azerbaijan. But that changed when he met Roark and his vision on how America was supposed to have been shaped. The way the man spoke of the future, it was simply breathtaking. This was a man with a vision. So when he got the invitation to join Roark Industries, and his pet project FULCRUM, he didn't hesitate in accepting. He was ready and willing to do whatever it took to make sure that Roark would be at the top when the dust had settled. Did that make him a mindless drone? Perhaps. But he was more than happy to fulfill that role. He was even willing to die for the cause. If future generations of Americans could live under the leadership of Roark, who was he to deny them that opportunity? So killing someone? If it had to be done? Sure. He wouldn't lose any sleep over it. All that mattered was the future.

And he would make sure that Roark would attain it.

**Chuck and Sarah's apartment, Washington D.C.  
>Friday, May 6th, 2005<br>23:15**

"What do you mean, I shouldn't be so petty? The guy was undressing you with his eyes damn it. What do you want me to do? Stand idly by while you flirt with just about every guy that's ever had the good fortune to be born and who happens to walk through the streets of Washington?" he shouted.

"I'm saying you're being jealous and irrational! How dare you accuse me of flirting? If you weren't so petulant, you might've noticed that the only one I give a damn about is you!" she retorted.

"Really? So why won't you tell me where you were last week, huh? Were you bored with me, was that it? Did you figure that, 'oh, if Jill could fuck around behind his back, so can I?'"

"You have no right to compare me to that bitch! How dare you even suggest that we are the same. Have I earned so little trust from you?"

"Oh, I don't know, you tell me, Miss 'I used to be a spy, keeping secrets is my job'. You tell me whether you have earned that trust."

"I told you so much about everything, and I want one little secret all to myself, something that I have very good reason to keep to myself might I add, and that's suddenly proof I'm cheating on you? You know what, Chuck? Screw you, okay? And if you want to know, I was meeting with my dad. My lying, conning, two-bit crook that I call a father and whom I still love despite his shitty past and his miserable life. And you know what? When I was there, I couldn't stop talking about you. But if you want to go ahead and suggest that I'm fucking anything with a pulse behind your back, you go right ahead."

Chuck deflated and he sighed. "I... I've got to go."

"Fine," she huffed.

He grabbed his coat and headed to the door. "Don't wait up for me. I don't want to say something else which I might regret later so... I'm going to crash at a hotel or something. I'll see you tomorrow. And Sarah... I do love you... I really do. So... I..." He walked out of the door without finishing his sentence and the soft click the door made when it closed reverberated not only through the room, but through Sarah's entire being.

**Roark Industries, Washington  
>Tuesday, December 14th, 2004<br>17:00**

"Excellent work people, you all did great," Roark bellowed as the staff milled around cleaning up after the huge convention of nerds had stormed through. Lonny was sat behind a computer, his ears covered with a headset listening intently to proceedings of the laptop. He'd know when the damn thing would be turned on, turned off, just about everything. All he needed to do was wait.

A trace signal pinged on the map and Lonny noticed that it was at one of the hotels in the direct area. So far so good. The laptop was turned on and Lonny decided that it would be a good idea to check the webcam. After all, you couldn't be careful enough.

He gasped. "Sir!" he shouted. "Sir, Bartowski doesn't have the correct laptop!"

"What?" Roark shouted as he ran—it was more like waggled, but Lonny would never tell Roark that—over to the laptop. He saw the face of the Asian reporter, Leslie Chang, and his eye twitched. "Please tell me," he grunted. "that this is some kind of practical joke, or that Bartowski suddenly turned Asian and had a change of name while I was in the can."

"...No sir,"

"Then who is responsible for this?" he shouted. "I want answers damn it! And trust me on this, someone will pay for this."

"It was me, sir," the woman with the auburn hair, Lonny thought her name was Jessica, said.

Roark shook his head. "What an amazing waste of talent. Well, I guess there's nothing left for me but to fire you for your insolence."

Her eyes went wide. "Please sir, please don't. I have children to feed. It was a onetime mistake, I'm sorry!"

Roark stroked his chin. "If you can devise a way to get the correct laptop to our young friend in the next thirty seconds, I'll let you stay," he said, his tone friendly but his eyes glaring death and decay.

"We could... stage a robbery," she offered in a meek voice. "It's a given he'll want to avoid leaking that he lost one of the only Roark 6s that are currently around. So he'll probably inform you of the robbery and you can send him a new one, with the features installed again. We can just clear the data for the current setup out of the system so we won't receive any notifications for them. That way, we'll have eyes on the target."

"My dear... that's brilliant. I knew I hired you for a reason," he laughed. "You heard her people, let's get a move on. Get me John, Jeffrey and Dennis on the double!"

**Dulles International Airport, Washington D.C.  
>Sunday, August 14th, 2005<br>13:30**

"Please tell me," he begged for the tenth time since arriving at the airport.

"Nope," she replied with a dazzling smile. She knew he loved surprises and this was one hell of a surprise. He hadn't complained once about being away from his sister, even though she noticed how it was eating at him. So what better way to repay the man she loved by taking him on a trip to see someone who he was missing terribly? She couldn't think of one, so that's why they were stood at Dulles, having just put the bags on the carriage. She had taken the liberty of packing clothes for him, considering the fact she was keeping their destination a surprise.

They walked through the airport, Sarah scanning the different gates for the one that had their destination on it. Finally she found the one she was looking for and she sat down on one of the seats. She saw Chuck read the destination and his mouth dropped open. "You didn't," he whispered.

God, she loved surprising him.

"I did," she said with her biggest grin.

He strode to her and kneeled in front of her, grasping her hands. "Has anyone ever told you how truly amazing and wonderful you are?"

"No one that mattered, until now."

"Well, it bears repeating. You, Sarah Walker, are amazing. And wonderful. And I'm the luckiest guy in the world."

He sat down next to her, content with simply holding her hand and tracing small circles with his thumb and Sarah was almost positive that this was what heaven had to be like. She relaxed in his grasp and simply enjoyed being held by one of the few men that had exclusive rights to doing just that.

She could see the joy in Chuck's eyes as the boarding call went out and he rushed to find his seat, enthusiastically dragging her along. After all, he was going home.

**Roark Industries, Washington  
>Tuesday, December 14th, 2004<br>17:40**

"Slow down, slow down. Take a few deep breaths. Good. Now, I want you to tell me, in excruciating detail, what exactly happened and how you managed to almost _murder_ the person you were supposed to simply rob of his possessions."

Roark listened to the answer on his phone, a vein in his forehead throbbing and being close to bursting. When the buzzing died down, he took a few deep breaths. "Let me get this straight. Dennis decided that he would go off script, stab the poor kid and then rob his possessions. Is that what happened?"

The man on the other line, Lonny thought his name was Jeffrey, a lanky guy with long blond hair, replied to the question. "Oh well, that's great that you were going to help him and bring him to a hospital. If you hadn't stabbed him, this wouldn't have happened in the first place!" he shouted, his voice loud enough to silence all of the people that had shown up in the little conference room. "I 'm not even going to bother bailing those two idiots out. They brought this on themselves. Good riddance, I say."

He listened for a couple of seconds, before barking, "I don't care. All I care about is that the laptop finds its way in that kid's hands and that we take out Stephen Bartowski. Losing a couple of men over this is a risk we'll have to take. For what it's worth Jeffrey, you've done well."

He slammed the phone shut and dragged a hand over his face.

"Damn amateurs."

**Washington D.C.  
>Sunday, December 31st, 2006<br>14:50**

"Can you believe we've been seeing each other for two years already?"

"Hmm, I can. Because as cheesy as it may sound, I've committed just about every moment I've had with you to memory."

"You're right," she laughed. "That was cheesy. But the good kind of cheese."

They were walking back from an early lunch and Sarah had looped her arm through his, resting her head on his shoulder as his arm had encircled her waist. An easy silence passed over them, and the sounds of the busy streets of Washington were drowned out, leaving them in a bubble of serenity.

Until he stumbled over the pavement and fell down. Sarah immediately bent over to help him. "Chuck, are you okay?" she asked. And then she gasped in shock. He had swiveled around and was kneeling in front of her, a small velvet box perched atop his hand, with a beautiful ring with a brilliant diamond sticking out of it.

"Sarah. A long time ago, I thought that this pavement here was where my life would end. And in a way, I suppose it did. But in its place, a new one began. One that I've gotten to share with the most amazing woman I'd ever have the good fortune of meeting. We've had our ups and we've had our downs, but above all, we've had each other. And I want to keep you, and cherish you and love you until the day that I die. Sarah Walker, will you marry me?"

What was he doing? Wasn't this too soon? Was two years long enough to consider marriage? She was too young to be married, right? Should she say no? But that would ruin their relationship. And if she had to be honest, the thought wasn't unappealing in the least. If anything, the moment she saw him kneel and her mind screamed at her what was happening, an instant flood of relief coursed through her. She was where she wanted to be, with the man she wanted to be with. Answering this was the easiest thing she'd ever get to do.

She steeled her nerves and blew out a sigh. "Yes."

"Wait, what?"

"Yes, yes I'll marry you," she replied, one of the biggest grins of her life plastered on her face. Onlookers started applauding as Chuck smiled, and reverently pushed the ring on her waiting ring finger, before leaping up and kissing her to within an inch of her life. She wouldn't want to have it any other way.

**Roark Industries, Washington D.C.  
>Friday, December 17th, 2004<br>17:00**

"Mr. Roark, there's a phone call for you. A miss Walker, calling on behalf of Chuck Bartowski."

"Excellent," he crooned. He punched a button and the room went silent as the intercom piped up. "This is Ted Roark of Roark Industries speaking, how may I help you?"

"Ah... hi. Yeah, this is Sarah Walker. I'm calling because my... friend, Chuck, he was at your convention a few days ago."

"Ah yes, Chuck Bartowski if I recall correctly. He's certainly made an impression. May I ask why you're calling though?"

"He's had an... accident of sorts. He's been mugged and they stole your laptop. He's been freaking out about it happening ever since remembering it happened. And he wanted to... Chuck, I'm telling him right now... He wanted you to know how deeply sorry he is and that he had no intention of mistreating such a valuable piece and that he meant no disrespect and that he hopes that you can forgive him... happy now, Chuck?"

The entire room could hear the woman's eyes roll.

"How very unfortunate to hear, Miss Walker. However, let me assure you that we don't hold anything against Mr. Bartowski. In fact, if you could give us your address, we'd be more than happy to send a replacement."

After she had passed on the information, they said their goodbyes and she closed the line. Roark threw his hands in the air. "Oh yeah! That's how you do it!" he shouted. "Score 1 for Teddy, baby! Suck it!"

"Sir," Lonny said. "We don't even know if this is going to work.

"True," he replied. "But we're one step closer. And that has to count for something."

**Chuck and Sarah's apartment, Echo Park, Los Angeles  
>Tuesday, September 18th, 2007<br>15:00**

The trip they had taken had proved her undoing and after smoothing it over with her bosses, they had reached an agreement. Sarah was allowed to transfer to L.A. and work from there. And that was how they had found their way to the apartment across from the Bartowski residence.

Sarah ran back and forth between the two apartments, sorting out the last minute details for Chuck's birthday party. It was his first birthday party as an engaged man, and that meant that Ellie wouldn't have to host a 'Hi, have you met Chuck' type party. Sarah fondly remembered when they had shown up in front of Ellie's apartment jiggling the keys to the apartment across from them in the same hand that held her engagement ring. The squeal had caused them to spend the next five minutes apologizing to various neighbors for causing their dogs to go berserk.

Whenever they weren't in wedding-planning mode, they went around planning Chuck's birthday party. Sarah figured she'd get a head-start on the whole married thing and made it her life goal to simply make him happy. And since she knew how much he loved parties—or well, parties that didn't involve him getting set up with random women or ones that forced him to dance anyway—she figured that was the one thing she could certainly do.

"Chuck, remember, we're expected to be there around eight, as that's when the party will kick off. I'm going over now and I'll see you in an hour or so, okay?"

"Definitely," he replied. "I'm quickly going to check on my email. I'll see you there. Love you." He pulled her close for their parting kiss and Sarah almost lost herself in his ardent touch. She pushed him back and laughed.

"Down boy, we'll get to that tonight."

"Can't wait," he replied, shooting her a wink. "Best birthday ever." He retreated back into their study room as she turned around.

"Whoa," she heard as she walked out the door to go check up on the food. "Zork! I haven't played that in ages."

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><p><strong>The End<br>(for real)**

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><p><strong>AN2: **If you enjoyed this story, do leave a review. Thank you very much for reading and I hope you enjoyed.


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